Alight
by GlassBelle
Summary: AU. Katniss and Peeta's last night together before the Quarter Quell will change their relationship forever.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Characters and setting are not mine.  
**Note:** This story is lemony, please read at your discretion.

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**Alight**

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I don't rush through my shower. I know it is the last one I'll ever take, so I try to enjoy it. The hot, citrus scented foam that sprays over me, the flowery shampoo and soap that I use to wash myself. I don't know where I'll be twenty-four hours from now. I could be cold, dirty, or even dead.

My stomach lurches at this thought and I feel glad I didn't eat much at dinner. I have resigned myself to the fact that I am going to die in the Quarter Quell, but that doesn't mean I like thinking about it. Since I found out about the Quell, I've tried to focus only on my hope to help Peeta win. It feels better to think of him, and my desire to keep safe and alive, than to consider what will become of me. I don't want to think of going somewhere without him, or of the fact that I'll never see Peeta or Prim, my mother or Gale, ever again. Maybe I'll see my father and Rue. Maybe they'll be wherever I'm going.

Or maybe I'm not going anywhere. Perhaps death is the end of existence. Someone will kill me and that will be it. My body will be lifeless and my mind, my self, whatever it is that makes me _me_, will vanish.

I tell myself it doesn't matter. Of course those who love me will miss me, but there is nothing to be done. Even if I wanted to win the Quell, I doubt it would be possible. I bet the gamemakers have already been ordered to ensure my death. And if I did survive, I'm sure Snow would make my life miserable. Perhaps he would see to it that Prim is chosen for the Games next year. And Peeta would be gone…

I feel a shaking in my chest at these thoughts, and have to remind myself that they are not real. Prim is alive. Peeta is alive and just outside the bathroom door. He's waiting for me, waiting to hold me.

I stand under the powerful jet spray for a few more seconds, then shut it off and step out of the shower. I go over to the hair drying machine and place my hands on it. My hair is instantly dried and detangled, so it falls in a glossy sheet around me. I then take a plush white towel off the nearby shelf and proceed to dry my face, my shoulders, my torso, and then run the towel down each leg before repeating my actions in reverse. I realize that this is the last time I'll ever do this, too. I won't have this body for very much longer.

I step over to the large bathroom mirror and use my moist towel to wipe the fog off the glass so that I can see my whole naked body in it. Ever since Peeta and I won the Games, I've never had to go to bed hungry. I'm still lean with firm, taut legs and arms, but am just a bit rounder than I used to be. My hips curve a little more, my skin isn't sucked up against my bones. I notice for the first time that my breasts have gotten fuller. I'm sure anyone in the Capitol would still say that they could be vastly improved by surgical alteration, but I think they look nice.

_And why does that matter?_ Asks a nagging, cruel voice within me, _Why would it matter what I look like?_

I sigh and look down at my body, the body I'm going to lose soon. It's been sufficient: it doesn't tire easily, it can climb trees and move quickly and quietly. I run my hands along my hips, then up over my stomach and past my ribs. I wait a beat and then continue, sliding them along the curves of my breasts and over my nipples. My stomach tenses and I can't resist running my fingertips back down, then up and down again. It feels good and the nubs begin to harden. I feel a tug between my legs and, without thinking, start to slide a hand down over my stomach.

That is when I'm startled by three soft knocks on the bathroom door. I gasp softly and my hands flinch away from my body. The door is locked from the inside, and I know Peeta would not barge in without my permission, but I still feel embarrassed and as if I've been caught.

"Katniss?" Peeta's voice calls. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I say. "I'll be right out."

"All right."

Was he worried about me? Did he think I may have fallen in the shower or something like that? Or does he want to hold me so much that he can't bear waiting? More likely, the latter. I realize that I feel the same way about him, so I hastily pull on a pair of underwear and a silky nightgown, then leave the bathroom.

Peeta's sitting on the bed with his feet on the floor, leaning back on his hands. He's already in his sleeping clothes. I watch his eyes quickly flit from my mostly bare legs up to my nightgown, before they raise to meet mine. He smiles and sits up straight, reaching out for me. I approach him, sliding both of my hands into his. Warmth radiates from where our skin touches. I can feel it spreading through me, to the places I was so conscious of moments ago in the bathroom.

He doesn't look at my body again, just keeps his eyes on my face. But it feels intimate somehow. I know he loves me and he…well, he must know I care for him. We've become so close since the victory tour, since we decided to be friends. He's one of my favorite people in the world. Granted, that isn't saying much, as I have not let myself get close to many people, but still…

I don't want to think about this right now. I don't want to think about exactly how much Peeta means to me because I'm going to lose him. I'm going to lose everyone.

"You don't look very tired," he says softly, tilting his head to the side.

I close my eyes for a couple of seconds and then they seem to spring open on their own. "I guess I'm not."

"Do you want to talk, or…" Peeta lets his voice trail off when he sees me shake my head.

"We should rest, at least," I say. "Even if I won't be able to sleep."

Peeta gives me a sad smile, surely thinking of what is going to happen tomorrow and why we'll need our rest. He drops my hands and shifts back on the bed, peeling the covers down so he can slide beneath them. I climb in and scoot toward him, until my body is right beside his. One of his arms slides under my neck and the other rests securely over me. I press my forehead into the crook of his neck. He sighs, almost imperceptibly, and rubs his cheek against my hair.

I don't know how long we spend like this. Several minutes, but less than a quarter of an hour it seems. I feel a hyperawareness of him, because I know this is the last time we'll be together like this. When we're in the arena we'll have to take shifts sleeping (provided we both survive the bloodbath) and will not have the comfort of a bed. I find myself wishing I'd never met Peeta, or Gale, and that Prim had been born into another family, because the thought of never seeing any of them after the Quell is so painful. It would be better if the people I love had never been a part of my life, so I wouldn't have to lose them. It would be easier to let go if I had no one to miss.

Peeta turns onto his side and slides down so that we're face to face. "Katniss," he says softly, reaching up to wipe tears off my face with the backs of his fingers. I didn't realize I'd begun to cry, but now that I'm aware of it a new round of sorrow washes over me and I start to sob. Peeta's mouth forms a pout. He leans in and gently presses his lips to my face over and over, kissing my tears away.

My heartbeat speeds up and the cries stop. I cup one hand over his jaw and turn my head so that our lips meet. I feel him start with surprise - and why wouldn't he be surprised? This is the first time we've kissed without a camera on us. He presses his lips into mine but goes no further, and I realize it's up to me. When I push my tongue against his bottom lip, he allows me entrance into his warm mouth. His tongue moves against mine, massaging it in a way that makes me forget all about being sad. It makes me forget about everything but his firm, warm body pressed against mine, and the way my pulse seems to throb everywhere. And his mouth, his mouth feels so good…

Peeta lets me push him onto his back. I slide my leg across him, shifting so that I'm straddling him and the needy place between my legs is pressed against his stomach. I knot one hand in his hair and run the other over his chest, relishing the firmness of his flesh. He's so strong. I wish he wasn't wearing this shirt, it's keeping me from him.

I move my mouth faster and harder against his, wanting more, more, more. Abruptly, he pushes me away and I feel a stab of disappointment. Before I can protest, he's sat and scooted up so that he's leaning against the headboard of the bed and I'm now sitting in his lap. We both work to catch our breath and I am just about to ask why he stopped, but he speaks first.

"Katniss…what…" Peeta pauses, swallows, then licks his lips. His starry eyes flicker around my face. "What's happening? Wh-what is this?"

I don't know how to answer him. I'm so desperate to continue that I feel terrified of saying the wrong thing. It's hard to think right now, but I try to imagine what he wants to hear. I bet he wants me to say that I'm in love with him and that I want to have one night together during which we share everything.

But that wouldn't be fair on my part. I would be lying…at least partly. And I _won't_ lie to him. Eventually I say, "We're…living through our last night together."

A crease forms between Peeta's eyebrows and he blinks a couple of times. "Katniss, you know I love you. And…no matter what you say, we can do whatever you want tonight. But I need to know why we're doing this."

Oh, Peeta. He's so sweet, so kind and considerate, and what he's asking for is perfectly reasonable. It breaks my heart that I can't say what he wants to hear. I shut my eyes, trying to focus on the fact that he's already said he'll do whatever I want. We're going to kiss again, and more besides, as soon as I can give him just one answer.

"I want to be with you," I say, my eyes still closed, "because this is our last chance. Because…you're the best person I've ever known and I want to be close to you, while we still can."

It's true. Everything I've said is true. I'm going to die soon, so why not make the most of this last night? What do I have to lose?

I open my eyes and see that Peeta's are glistening. He nods slowly and then slides his hand up my back, over my neck and into my hair. He draws me forward, engaging me in another deep kiss. I'm glad that what I said does not seem to have upset him. I think those tears that were threatening to spill out of his eyes were of relief, maybe even happiness. I know he's not sad about what's happening between us. I can feel it.


	2. Chapter 2

Peeta sits up straighter, leaning away from the headboard. Without breaking our kiss, he shifts us lower on the bed and turns us, gently laying me down so he can hover over me. He's supporting most of his weight on his arms, but I want him closer. I slide my hands down his back and pull him flush against me. He's heavy but not uncomfortably so. He makes me feel warm and safe.

I part my legs beneath him and gasp as his hardness presses between them. I first felt his reaction to me while I was in his lap, but didn't take notice of it until now. I was so focused on his lips, and the way his kiss seemed to ripple from my mouth outward until my whole body fluttered with it, that I didn't think about the hard thing growing against my stomach. Now, I'm thrilled to have had this effect on him and my desire is fueled by his.

I press my hips up into him and he groans, muffled by my mouth. When he pushes back against me, moving up and down, I have to break our kiss.

"Peeta," I gasp. "I -" I don't know what to say. I want more, but don't know enough about any of this to tell him what to do.

Peeta smiles a little and nods. When he moves himself off of me, the loss of his heat is almost painful. He begins sliding my nightgown up over my belly, watching his hand expose more and more skin until the fabric is bunched over my ribcage. I can't help it - I flinch.

Peeta's eyes raise to meet mine. "Is this okay?" he asks.

I press my lips together and nod. It _is_ okay. I want him, but this is all so new to me. I lift my head to look down at the cover up sheet and light blanket that got pushed off of us when we started kissing. "Can we cover up for now?" I ask.

Peeta nods and sits up, reaching down.

"Just the sheet," I say. The blanket would feel too confining.

He folds the blanket down at the bottom of the bed and tugs the sheet upward, draping it over us as he returns to my side to kiss me. After a couple of seconds I take his hand, place it at the apex of my ribcage and nudge it upward, to let him know it's okay to resume what he'd been doing. I feel much more comfortable with the sheet over us. It's like a shelter.

Peeta slides one hand around my back, to lift it away from the bed, and pulls the nightgown all the way off of me, tossing it onto the floor. I lay back down and he leans on his elbow next to me, tenting the sheet off of my body with his.

His eyes widen as they travel over me and I have an impulse to cover myself. But then he whispers, "So beautiful," and I remember that I won't even have this body for much longer, so there's no reason not to share it with Peeta. I'm going to try as hard as I can to ignore any inhibitions I feel tonight.

He stares at my breasts and licks his lips, then leans toward them. He inhales shakily and glances up at my face, asking permission. It seems like he's going to put his mouth on me and the idea seems strange, but I know I'll like it. I nod my assent and he closes the distance between us.

He takes my nipple into his mouth and sucks tenderly on it. The sensation is so unexpected, and so instantly pleasurable, that it makes my breath catch in my throat. His tongue then swirls around and warmth bursts through me, down to my stomach and further. Peeta kisses his way over to my other breast and begins to suck on it, using his hand to manipulate the one that is no longer warmed by his mouth. The pulsing between my legs becomes impossible to ignore. I squeeze my thighs together in hopes of achieving some kind of relief, but it's no use.

"Please," I whisper.

Peeta abruptly moves away from me, shifting toward the bottom of the bed, and I gasp softly with surprise. When he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my underwear, I lift my hips and make it easy for him to tug them off in one motion. Instantly, he's back at my side. He kisses my neck before he works his way down to my breasts again. His left hand lands on my stomach and then slides down. He uses his knee to nudge my legs apart, trapping one of them between his, and his hand moves further. My eyes fall shut as what seems to be his middle finger reaches my slit and grazes along it, collecting some of the wetness that pools there. His finger then shifts upward and begins to rub against the pulsing bundle of nerves that has been neglected for too long. It feels amazing. I'm so consumed, so grounded in this moment, that I can almost forget about what is going to happen tomorrow. I can forget about everything and everyone but Peeta.

I feel hypnotized by his lips and tongue, kissing and licking. And even more by his hand, which continues to move in small circles, occasionally dipping down to re-wet itself at my entrance. My head is swimming. I can barely think. All I know is that I want more, that I seem to be racing toward something my body wants desperately.

Peeta shifts slightly, so his erection is pressing hard against my leg, and he makes a soft moaning sound that pushes me over the edge. My back arches and I gasp sharply as the unbelievable sensations peak. I don't know if I'm flying or falling, bursting or blooming. I never knew my body could feel like this.

When the feeling fades, I collapse against the bed and try to catch my breath. Peeta rests his head on my chest and I run my fingers through his hair. I'm aware of a strange feeling near where he touched, but it's more on the inside of my body than the outside. A part of me seems to be squeezing and throbbing in a different way than it was before. Before it was an ache, now it's a relief, like stretching. All of my tension is gone. I feel tired and think I could probably fall asleep now. But then the awareness that this is my last chance, my last night to be with Peeta, returns and chases away thoughts of sleep.

I place my hand on Peeta's back and then slide it up over his shoulder and along the dip of his neck before letting it rest on his jaw. He's made me feel so good, but something is bothering me and I can't keep it to myself. I refuse to get upset, no matter what he says, because what does it matter anymore? But I have to know.

"Have you done that before?"

I feel him tense. Then he sighs, fanning warmth against me. "Yeah."

My teeth grit together and my stomach twists into a knot. He's _mine_. He's supposed to be all mine.

Peeta lifts his head to look at me. His blue eyes are soft and he's biting his bottom lip a little. His hand starts to move in soothing circles over my belly, warming my skin. "It doesn't matter, does it?" he asks. "It didn't feel like this. I only love _you_."

He leans in to kiss my mouth and I let him. He's right. I know it doesn't matter, really. But I have to know one more thing. I push him back gently. "Did you…" I swallow hard before whispering, "Did you do more than this?"

Peeta kisses me again, then smiles sheepishly. "No. I…" He bites the inside of his cheek. "There was one girl who I touched like this and she did the same for me, but we didn't…" He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "We didn't go any further."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. I can't help feeling relieved. I'm glad that when _we_ do that, it will be new for both of us. I'll be his first and he'll be my only.

Peeta leans in to nuzzle my neck and I again become aware of him pressing firmly against my thigh, still hard and wanting. He was so sweet to take care of me first; it can't have been easy waiting all this time. I decide he's waited long enough…and not just tonight.

I place my hands on his shoulders and push him over onto his back. Together, we pull off his shirt and I can't resist leaning down to hug him, to press my bare torso against his. It makes me feel warm and wriggly. I give him a long kiss before I pull back to rid him of his pants and undershorts, freeing his erection.

My mouth drops open at the sight of it. I have seen a couple of naked men (patients of my mother's) but of course they weren't hard at the time. I can't help wondering if I'm really built to accommodate this. I let my gaze drift up to Peeta's face. He's leaning on his elbows, watching me intently.

I want to give him what he's given me. I want to make him feel good but I don't really know about this sort of thing. I'm sure he would like it if he was inside me, so…I suppose I should try to make him feel the way that would. I reach down, pressing my hand between my own legs. Peeta's eyes widen as he watches me rub myself, collecting some of the wetness that my body has produced. I pull my hand away and use the fingers of my other hand to spread the moisture around on it, then I reach for him. Peeta nods encouragingly and I wrap my hands around his length. His hips spring up reflexively.

"Good?" I ask.

"Yes," he breathes.

I'm not sure what to do next, so I bite my lip and let my eyes drift back up to his face. Seeing my trepidation, Peeta reaches down and guides my hands, then leaves me to it. I massage his base with one hand and use the other to pump up and down above this, causing Peeta's head to fall back on the pillow. I notice he's producing something wet too, so I run my thumb over the bead of moisture to spread it around, eliciting a pleased reaction from him.

"Oh _God_, Katniss," he groans.

I smile to myself and lick my lips. My own need has been reawakened and my insides clench with want. But I don't feel ready to mount him, and am so consumed with a desire to please him that I don't want to ask him to be inside me just yet. As I have no experience with this, I would want him on top, need him to do the work. We'll do that later. Right now, I just want to give while he relaxes.

Impulsively, I lean forward and take him into my mouth. He shudders and groans again, thrusting lightly against me. I continue to work him over with one hand while I use my tongue to swirl circles around his tip. But after only a few seconds like this, I feel his hands on my shoulders, pulling my mouth away from him with gentle insistence. Once my head is lifted, he sits up, pulls me close and kisses me. I feel his hand squeeze tightly around mine, guiding my motions again, and together we finish him off.

Peeta breaks our kiss to stare into my eyes. He looks as if he's seeing me for the first time. He's wide-eyed and clearly filled with awe. "I love you," he says, then kisses me again briefly before repeating, "I love you." He pulls me down on the bed with him so we're laying side by side and buries his face in my hair. "You know that, right? How much I love you?"

"I know," I say, my voice cracking. It sounds like he's saying goodbye and I suddenly feel on the verge of tears. I'm so overwhelmed by what we've done. I feel like I've been unbelievably foolish. I wish we'd done this before tonight. There have been so many missed opportunities: those nights on the train, every night in the victor's village when I could have snuck over to his house. I wish we had more time. I love this feeling, this closeness. He's surely wanted this all along; since the Games, at least, and perhaps even before that. Peeta knew we could have had this. Why couldn't I have figured it out sooner?

I clutch tightly to Peeta, feeling so much, _too_ much for him. His mouth finds mine and we kiss slowly. It calms me down and I try to command myself to live in the moment. I remind myself that what's done is done and there's no point in dwelling on regrets.

We kiss for a long time. His tongue dances with mine in a way that makes me want him so badly, want all of him, want him everywhere. The pulsing between my legs has returned and this time I need more than just his hand. I wrap my legs around him and feel the familiar velvety softness that was in my mouth now pressing against my core.

Peeta shifts, grinding against me, but then he sharply pulls back and sits up. I let out a whimper of surprise and disappointment. Peeta looks disappointed, too. His face is flushed and he's panting lightly. Why did he stop?

"What is it?" I ask, then hastily assure him, "It's okay. I want you."

Peeta reaches out and pulls me up against him. Again, I relish the feeling of skin on skin. He kisses my shoulder, my neck, my jaw, my chin. Then he looks lovingly into my eyes, stroking my hair. "We can't," he says.

What's he talking about? I can feel him stirring against me. He'll be ready soon if he isn't yet and I am beyond ready.

"Why?" I ask, wrapping my arms around his neck. I tilt my face up to kiss his forehead.

Peeta leans back a little, then reaches down and runs his hand over my stomach. "You could get pregnant," he says. "I won't do that to you."

That's right…he still thinks I'm going to make it out of the arena. Of course he doesn't want to burden me with a child to take care of. I want to assure him that it doesn't matter, because there is no way I'm going to survive the Quell. But I'm afraid that would start an argument that we may not recover from tonight. I'll have to think of another way to change his mind.


	3. Chapter 3

"Can't we just risk it?" I ask. Of course I would never normally take a chance like this, but I know I'm going to die so there is no risk, really.

"No," Peeta insists.

I spread my legs and push my center against him again, in hopes of enticing him. He shudders for a moment before letting out a groan of exasperation. Then his hands are on mine, pulling them away from him. He quickly but gently pushes me down on the bed, holding my wrists above my head and resting some of his weight on me so that I'm completely pinned.

"Don't do that," he says. For a second I think he looks upset with me, but then it fades and his eyes become soft again. His hands release my wrists so that they can cradle my head while he kisses me. "Don't," he whispers against my lips.

His tongue slips into my mouth and my heart races. It's as if I can feel each beat of it intoning: _last chance, last chance, last chance_…

I push Peeta away gently and look up at him with the saddest expression I can muster. He runs the backs of his fingers along my cheek as he says, "I want it, too - more than anything. But -"

"And you said you'd do whatever I want," I remind him.

"I thought you knew that wasn't an option." He looks away from me for a moment and appears to be considering something. When his eyes return to mine he tells me, "I have an idea."

"What?"

"Well, maybe I can get something. Maybe someone has protection and would loan some to me," he says.

"Loan?" I smirk.

"Give," Peeta amends with a smile. He moves away from me, over to the side of the bed, then stands and pulls his pants on.

"Where are you going?"

He shrugs. "Fourth floor."

I think for a moment and it becomes obvious what he intends to do. "Peeta," I say with apprehension, shaking my head. I can't help it, the idea of him going to ask Finnick Odair for birth control seems so ludicrous to me. I mean, I bet Finnick will have some, but still…

"You want this, don't you?"

"Yes," I say quickly, watching as Peeta pulls his shirt on. I slide off the bed and slip my nightgown over my head. "I'm going with you."

"You don't want to stay here?"

"Last year after the Games, I got locked in," I tell him, walking over to the closet. I put on a robe that is longer than the nightgown and just covers my knees. I turn back to Peeta. "I'm not letting any doors close between us tonight."

He smiles, holding his arms out to me. I go to him and we hug tightly for a few seconds before releasing each other. "Okay," he says.

Hand in hand, we make our way to the elevator and ride down to the fourth floor. The hallway looks pretty much the same as the one on the twelfth floor so we find the bedrooms easily. "It would be that one, right?" I ask, looking pointedly at the door that is positioned directly below where Peeta's is eight floors up.

Peeta nods. I see that there is a crack of light coming out from under the door, while the other room, Mags' presumably, appears to be dark inside.

"I'll wait over there," I say, gesturing toward a nearby alcove in the wall that is home to a small decorative table with a vase on it. "Just don't get locked in."

"I'll make sure the door stays open," Peeta says.

I give him a quick kiss on the cheek, drop his hand and walk away from him. I lean against the wall, next to the little table. Someone could probably see me if they were looking, but I doubt Finnick will even step out into the hall.

I hear Peeta's knock on the door. Fortunately, it is Finnick who answers it and greets him. Once Peeta steps into the room, I can only hear the hum of their voices and am unable to make out what they're saying. I think I hear Finnick laugh and am glad I chose not to subject myself to being a part of the mortifying situation Peeta is in. I feel kind of bad for him but then, maybe he doesn't think it is mortifying. After all, he's not as "pure" as me.

Peeta's voice suddenly becomes clear and I know he must have stepped out into the hall again. "Well, thanks then," he says.

"No problem," Finnick answers. "And don't worry, I won't tell Katniss."

Peeta laughs a little, then the door clicks shut and I hear one set of footsteps approach me. Peeta takes both of my hands in his and pulls me toward him, out of the alcove. "Everything okay?" I ask.

He nods. "Let's go back to the room."

In silence, we walk to the elevator and ride it up, then return to my bedroom. I take the robe off and sit on the bed, leaning back on my hands to watch Peeta undress. He smiles at me and pulls his shirt off. "We don't need to use anything," he says cheerfully.

"What do you mean?" I ask. "Did Finnick convince you he was going to win the Quell?"

Peeta's smile fades as he sits down next to me. I turn to face him. "He told me you can't get pregnant," Peeta explains. "Your prep team gave you a shot?"

"Oh," I say, comprehension dawning. "They did, when they waxed me. They said it was to regulate my hormones, but I didn't think…" I begin to feel foolish for not putting the pieces together sooner. They gave me the shot last year too, and it prevented me from having a menstrual cycle during the Games and for a while after. I can understand why they would want to prevent the girls from having to deal with that sort of mess while we're in the arena. Similar to the male tributes growing beards, I don't think it would be fun for the audience to have to see.

I stare down at my lap, feeling embarrassed. "I'm sorry you had to learn that from Finnick. I should have figured it out." Of course preventing my cycle would prevent pregnancy, too.

"It's okay," Peeta says. I can tell by his tone of voice that he's amused, not embarrassed about his talk with Finnick. I look up to find that he's smiling. "It was actually kind of funny," he tells me. "He asked who I was cheating on you with."

I smirk. "Right. Because I'm already pregnant. What did you say?"

"Nothing," Peeta says. "It seemed like he knew I was lying in the interview, so he didn't really wait for an answer. He just told me that there was nothing to worry about as long as I was spending the night with one of the tribute girls, and he explained about the shot. Apparently, you're all set for three months."

_As if that matters_, I think.

Peeta smiles shyly and looks down, finding my hand and holding it between both of his. "I'm glad," he says. "It's better this way. There won't be anything separating us."

I flush at the thought and hear myself saying, "Yeah."

Peeta's gaze raises to meet mine. He reaches up and pinches my chin, then runs his thumb along my bottom lip. When he stands up off the bed, I follow suit. We turn to face each other and he leans down to give me a soft, open mouthed kiss. His hands come up to rest on my shoulders and he pulls back to look down at my body while he slides the straps of my nightgown sideways, so it falls to the floor. I return the favor, easing his pants down until they collapse into a heap around his feet. I realize that we both left the room without putting any underwear on. It seems I'm becoming less "pure" all the time.

Peeta pulls me against him and we kiss. He's warm but the gesture makes me shiver; from anticipation, I suppose. He's getting hard already, I can feel it against my stomach. His hands slide down to squeeze my hips, lifting me up so I can wrap my legs around him. My eyes are closed, and my mouth overwhelmed by Peeta's, but I'm aware as he shifts us, and my back hits the bed. I hear a couple of swishing sounds and realize he's pulled the sheet over us again.

I let my feet fall to the bed and Peeta kisses his way down, over my chin and neck, until his mouth reaches my chest. He sucks and licks, and rubs his hardness against me until I can't take it anymore. My voice seems to have a mind of its own as it whispers, "I want you."

He moans softly and lifts his head. He reaches down to align himself at my entrance, then leans on his forearms, sliding his hands under my back. As I hug around his shoulders, our eyes lock. I'm suddenly struck by what is about to happen. I never gave this sort of thing any thought in the past, and I don't want to think about it too much right now either. It's easier to just _act_, to simply do what feels right. And this, with Peeta, feels so unbelievably right that I can't imagine stopping now. Even though I'm nervous.

I give a little nod of encouragement and he watches me carefully as he begins to push in. It feels strange. Slowly, he pushes further and it starts to hurt. I squeeze my eyes shut.

"Should I stop?" Peeta asks.

I shake my head and he pushes faster, perhaps to get it over with for my sake, or maybe because he can't hold back. When his hips bump against me I whimper. I feel too full, too stretched. "I need a minute," I whisper.

Peeta's head falls to the pillow next to mine so that his chin is touching my shoulder. "Me too," he says.

I can't help laughing a little. He's clearly having a good time and I'm glad. I want him to remember this night for the rest of his life. Maybe it will make losing me easier.

"This is real, isn't it?" he whispers.

I run my hands down over his smooth back. I know what he means. This feels incredibly surreal to me, because it's so different from anything I've ever known. And I'm sure the way Peeta feels about me makes tonight very special and full of wonder for him, too.

"Yes," I say. "It's real."

He lifts his head to place soft kisses on each of my cheeks, then my forehead and the tip of my nose. When he pulls back to look into my eyes, I return his smile and tilt my lips forward, asking for another kiss. While his mouth moves with mine, I feel his hips begin to squirm, causing shifts within me. I bend my legs and draw them up, wrapping them around him. He groans against my mouth, then breaks our kiss. I nod, telling him it's okay to move now, and he starts thrusting shallowly.

The pain fades into discomfort. After a while, when he begins to pull out further, it feels weirdly good. Not as good as his hand made me feel, but pleasurable in a different kind of way. I start to lift my hips and move with him and it feels even better. There's a burn with every slide inward, but I like it.

Peeta's breathing is erratic and he's shuddering lightly with each thrust into me. "I can't -" his tone is apologetic, and he doesn't seem able to finish his sentence. His hips snap against me, pumping me upward on the bed, and my name is on his lips as he finds his release.

He shifts us back down and his head falls next to mine. His lips brush against my cheek and I feel him working to catch his breath. After a minute or so, he tips his head to kiss my earlobe. His parted lips graze against me as he whispers, "That was…so much better than I ever imagined."

"I'm glad," I say, smiling. I wonder just how many times he's imagined this, or thought about it. I'm glad he's finally gotten what he wants, glad he'll have this memory after I'm gone.

"You didn't come, did you?"

Come? Oh… "No. But it felt good," I assure him.

"Good," he says, pressing his forehead against my temple, his nose against my cheek. He leans in to kiss my neck, then gives each of my breasts a little suckling kiss before pulling out of me. He slides down between my legs and they flinch together, but he's already sitting between them, holding them apart.

I lean up on my elbows, suddenly frightened. "What are you doing?"

Peeta runs his hands along my thighs, smiling up at me. "Let me," he says softly. "I promise you'll like it."

I bite my lip and stare down at him with wide eyes. Somehow this feels way more intimate than anything else we've done and I'm scared. But I'm sure he's right, I'm sure I will like it. _Last chance, last chance, last chance_…

I swallow hard and give a little nod. Peeta ducks his head down and kisses my inner thighs. By the time he reaches my center, it's aching for attention.

He does the same things he does when he kisses my mouth. His lips open and close, his tongue swirls around. It feels so good, so _impossibly_ good. I can't resist pushing lightly against him, trying to deepen the feeling. He slides his tongue into me then, wraps his upper lip around the spot he's been licking, and sucks lightly. I can only manage to take very shallow breaths and my eyes fall shut. I feel like I have a whirlpool inside me, swirling down into a point right where Peeta's mouth is. Every thought is pushed from my mind until my whole world revolves around his lips and tongue. I suck in a short breath and exhale as my climax crashes over me.

When I return to awareness, I'm sitting up and throwing myself against Peeta, who has sat up too. I wrap my arms and legs around him and he holds me close, kissing me.

When we pull apart for air he gives me the sweetest, most adoring smile and it further cements my plan for the Quell. There is no way I am leaving the arena without him. In fact, I don't ever want to be any further away from him than I am right now.

I smile back at him and reach up, tracing my first two fingers over his lips, which he puckers to kiss me. This makes me laugh. I'm feeling giddy from what we just did. It would be hard not to at least smile right now. He pushes his tongue out against my fingers and I pull them away, then quickly use my other hand to bring his head forward until our mouths meet again.

After a few seconds, he pulls back and kisses my forehead. Then we just look at each other for a while, while his hands trace patterns over my back and mine rest on his chest. I expect him to tell me again that he loves me, but he doesn't. I wonder if he's gotten tired of saying it and not hearing me reply in kind.


	4. Chapter 4

Eventually Peeta says, "We should try to sleep."

I nod, reluctantly climbing off of him. I pick up my nightgown and underwear from the floor. "I'll be right back," I say, heading into the bathroom. I pull the underwear on and stand at the sink counter, turning the cold water on full blast. I splash some on my face, which is a little damp with perspiration, then dry my skin with a hand towel.

Looking in the mirror, I see that my cheeks are still pinker than usual, and my hair is messy. I run a brush through it before I quickly braid it back. I then wet a washcloth with cool water and run it over my neck and chest, which feel overheated.

I slip my nightgown on and look in the mirror again. Now that the gnawing hunger I felt for Peeta has been sated, and the blissful after effects have faded, I feel nervous about returning to the bedroom. What will I say? What do you say to someone after you've had sex with them? I have no idea. It was surprisingly easy to let him see me naked, and touch me and be inside me, while I wanted him so badly. It's like I wasn't even thinking with my head. Another part of me seemed to have complete control over my actions.

I wrap my arms around my torso, hugging myself as I try to collect my thoughts. I'm not used to feeling so vulnerable, but of course I don't regret any of it. It felt too good. I wouldn't take it back for anything. And Peeta loves me, maybe even more now than he did before. And I'm going to die soon anyway…

I take a deep breath, command myself to stay calm, and then rejoin Peeta in the bedroom. He's sitting on the bed in his sleeping pants, holding his shirt in one hand. He looks up and smiles ruefully when he sees me. It seems that he's been thinking of the Quell again, too.

I walk over to stand in front of him. "You don't have to put that on," I say.

Peeta tosses the shirt aside and wraps his hands around my hips, staring up at me with wide blue eyes. His smile changes, so that he's looking at me like I'm his favorite person in the world, and like he loves me more than I thought it was possible to love someone. The nervousness I felt in the bathroom seems to dissipate completely and is replaced by a feeling of contentment.

"I can't believe this is it…" He frowns as his voice trails off.

I nod and move toward him until I'm standing between his legs. Peeta hugs me tightly around my waist and I hold his head to my chest, placing a kiss on top of it. "I'm sorry," I say.

He pulls back to look up at my face. "What do you mean?"

"This is all my fault. If I'd tried harder on the victory tour to convince everyone that we weren't trying to be rebellious, or if I could have convinced Snow -"

"We both did the best we could," Peeta insists, cutting me off. "And I don't think it would have mattered. I think, with the berries, we started something that took on a life of its own. By the time we went on the tour it was already out of our hands."

I don't know if Peeta's right or if he even believes what he's saying. And while I appreciate that he's trying to make me feel better, his words do not console me. I am still terribly sorry for all of it. That Peeta is going to have to endure the horrors of another Hunger Games arena, and that if he makes it out this time I won't be with him. And Prim is going to lose her sister.

I sigh, and decide that I don't want to discuss this anymore. It doesn't help to talk about what might have been, especially when we have so little time left. Perhaps our time would be better spent talking about _us_. I realize that if there's anything I want to say to Peeta before I die, now is my chance.

I nod resignedly and we climb into the bed, arranging ourselves together. We both lay on our side, facing one another, and are wrapped in each other's arms. Peeta runs his hand up and down my bare arm, then pulls the cover up sheet and blanket higher over us. He kisses my forehead, then looks into my eyes. "Are you…feeling okay?" he asks.

I think he means am I feeling okay about what we did. "Yes," I say. "Are you?"

He grins. "Much better than I thought I'd feel tonight."

I smile just a little. I suddenly find myself thinking about how much we've been through together, and remembering the first time I noticed him.

"Did you burn the bread on purpose?" I ask.

He waits a beat before answering, "Yeah."

"I never even thanked you."

Peeta shrugs one shoulder. "We didn't know each other. I knew you were shy."

I run my hand over his chest. "It meant so much to me. Not just because of the meals it provided, but it…_you_ made me feel like things were going to be okay. I started hunting after that," I say. _You saved my life_.

Peeta smiles slightly. "You thanked me by taking care of me in the cave. I know I was just dead weight, but you didn't give up. And you risked your life to get the medicine."

"I had to," I say dismissively. What kind of person would I have been if I'd ignored the rule change and let him die? Especially when I owed him so much.

"You didn't _have_ to do anything," says Peeta.

I wait a few seconds before asking my next question. "Did you know your mother would hit you for burning the bread?"

"I guess," he says. "I probably assumed she would punish me somehow."

I frown. Peeta's given me so much, often at great cost to himself, and he never asks for anything in return. "You were so little."

"Not as little as you," he reminds me. "It doesn't matter, Katniss. I'm over it."

I slide my hand up to touch his cheek. "It was this side, right?"

He seems to think for a moment, then says, "Probably. She's right-handed."

I lean over and press my lips to his face, where I remember the welt being, then lay back down. "All better?" I ask.

Peeta smiles and pulls me closer. "All better."

He squeezes me tightly for a few moments before releasing me. I shift onto my back and Peeta turns onto his side, leaning on one arm so he can gaze down at me. He runs his first finger along the center of my forehead and then down to the tip of my nose. His hand grazes each of my cheeks, and then finds purchase behind my neck. When his eyes meet mine, I can tell he has a question of his own.

"What is it?" I ask, reaching up to cup his jaw. When he hesitates, I assure him, "You can ask me anything."

Peeta still looks uncertain but he says, "What would happen if we could go home right now?"

"You mean if the Quell was cancelled?"

He nods.

"That's not going to happen," I say with a sigh.

"But if it _did_. I just want to know what would happen…with us."

I understand that he's trying to find out, without asking directly whether I love him or not, if tonight has changed anything. If we were given a second chance, would I want a life together? Could I go home, move into Peeta's house, and continue to be close to him like this?

I think I could. In fact, a part of me feels like this would have happened no matter what. If not for the Quell, we would have gotten married and been expected to share a house. I would have wanted to share a bed because of the nightmares and I bet I would have sought comfort from his lips as well as his arms eventually. I can imagine how it would be easy, one thing leading to another. I do like to kiss him. And there was one time on the train when I almost wanted more. We were in the dark, wrapped around each other, and I felt very conscious of how easy it would have been to just reach down and touch him or guide his hands on me.

I'm not exactly sure when this all began. I did start taking notice of Peeta after he gave me the bread, but we may never have spoken if not for the Games. Maybe it was that special kiss in the cave that made me want more of him, or perhaps it was that first night I let him into my bed on the train. In hindsight it feels like everything, all of our shared experiences, have been leading up to what we did tonight. It feels like this kind of closeness was inevitable, inescapable.

And now I've taken too long to answer. Peeta's trying to hide it, but I can see that he's hurt. "You're right," he says, "we're not going home, so it doesn't matter. We should sleep."

He starts to move away, but I turn his face back toward me. I know I have to give him some kind of answer, even though it's hard for me to talk about this sort of thing. I can't die and leave him alone without first telling him what I'm feeling and thinking now.

"Peeta," I say, "ever since we kissed tonight - the first time, I mean - I've been wishing we had more time. I know it's not going to happen, but if somehow we could go home…I would want more nights like this one." I give him a brief, soft kiss. "With you."

My words are neither eloquent nor articulate, but they're good enough. Peeta's wounded expression morphs into one of…relief, I think. I caress his cheek and he turns to kiss my palm, then faces me again and smiles. I'm glad he feels better. What I've said is true and he deserved to hear it. Now that I know how good it feels to be with him like this, I can't imagine going on living and giving him up. In fact, I want to tell him even more.

"I think this would have happened anyway," I say softly. I look away from him, to make it easier to keep talking. "Even if it weren't for the Quell, I feel like we would have gotten around to this -"

_Eventually_, I was going to say, but he's cut me off by kissing me again. He's leaning over me, squeezing my waist with one hand while the other rests behind my neck. But he must be as tired as I am, because this time we don't go any further. It's getting late and we really should try again to sleep. This kiss is slow, relaxing, and seems to be making me feel more tired, if anything. Peeta pulls back a little and whispers, "I love you so much," then gives me two more brief, soft kisses on the lips before I open my eyes to find him looking down at me.

I smile in response and we hug tightly. When he leans away from me and onto his back, I turn to rest my head on his chest, the way I usually do when we sleep together. But tonight I don't feel like we're close enough. I slide my leg over his stomach and shift myself up and over, until I'm laying on top of him and my forehead is nestled against his neck. I'm surprisingly comfortable like this. He's so warm and I'm so tired, emotionally and physically.

"I'm not crushing you, am I?" I ask.

When Peeta laughs, I hear it reverberate in his chest. "No," he says. "I could stay like this forever."

My words come unbidden, "Me too," and I close my eyes, futilely hoping that tomorrow will never come.


	5. Chapter 5

I don't know how much either of us really sleep, but I must doze, at least. A few times during the night, I feel like I'm returning to awareness after having lost consciousness. When my prep team comes into my room in the morning, they cry at the sight of Peeta and I holding each other, a tangle of limbs. They give us a moment to say goodbye.

I nestle my face against his neck and sob once, but there are no tears. Peeta rubs my back and squeezes me tightly, then sits us up. Reluctantly, he starts to pull away, sliding his hands down my arms until they reach my hands, which he warms and brushes with his thumbs. I stare hard at Peeta's face, intent on committing every aspect to memory, just in case one of us doesn't even survive the bloodbath. Even though he looks miserable right now - creased brow, frowning mouth, tired and glassy eyes - I don't want to forget a thing.

Peeta leans in and presses his closed lips to mine, then pulls back and strokes one hand over my braided hair. "I'll see you soon," he says, managing a slight smile.

I'd like to smile back, for his sake, but can barely stop frowning. I nod my head and we hug once more, then he's gone.

#

When Peeta hits the force field, I feel like the ground beneath me gets yanked forward, tugging my feet out from under me so that I fall. I shake him, scream his name and start to sob, then hold my breath while Finnick works to resuscitate him. It's taking too long. I know I've lost him, failed him. He's gone and I have nothing.

But then Peeta gasps quietly and coughs. "Careful," he says, "there's a force field up ahead."

A new round of sobbing comes over me. I touch his neck but the feel of his pulse does not stop the crying. I lay my head on his chest to hear his heartbeat, and for some reason I begin to cry even harder.

His hand lands on the crown of my head. "I'm okay, Katniss. Shh."

I don't believe this. Peeta is the one who just died, and now he's trying to console _me_. I lift my head and move so that I'm leaning over him, staring down at his face. His eyes are heavy lidded and his mouth forms a small smile.

"Y-your heart stopped," I choke out.

"I'm fine now," he says, reaching up to wipe my tears away. "Please don't be upset."

"It just hormones," Finnick says, seemingly to no one in particular. "Because of the baby."

I feel grateful that Finnick keeps bringing up the imaginary baby in order to excuse my haywire emotions, because surely no one would want to sponsor me if they thought I was a sniveling mess for no good reason. And I am beyond grateful that he's resuscitated Peeta. But why would he do it? Finnick could have let him die and been one tribute closer to victory, and I never would have even known it was in his power to save Peeta.

I look over at Finnick and see him glance back and forth between me and Peeta, smiling slightly. I just can't figure him out. But no matter what his motivation was, I know that I couldn't possibly kill him now that he's saved Peeta, and that I'll never stop owing him for this. "Thank you," I say to Finnick.

"I could hardly let somebody's father die…soon-to-be father," Finnick says with a grin. "Besides, you'd do the same for me, right?"

_I would have to now_. "I'd try," I tell him.

I turn my attention back to Peeta. I want to kiss him and never stop, but I'm afraid it would inhibit his breathing. I can't do anything that might have a bad effect on him while he's still in a weakened condition. So I settle for smoothing the hair back from his face. Then, instead of kissing his lips, I kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his neck. Peeta's arms wrap around me and I help him to sit up.

I look into his eyes, unbelievably relieved just to see them open again. He reaches up to cup my cheek. "I'm okay," he says again. I hug him as tightly as I think I can without harming him. I realize I've started crying again.

Peeta leans forward, resting his forehead against mine. His hands run over my back and he consolingly shushes me again. I tilt my head and tip my jaw forward, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

"Promise you won't die again," I say. I know it's not fair to ask this of him in our situation, but I don't care.

Peeta sighs, looking resigned. "I'll be careful," he assures me.

#

I'm thinking of how much has happened in so little time. I remember the immense relief I felt when Finnick towed Peeta into land, away from his plate. Hugging him after I'd helped haul him out of the water felt like taking a breath after going too long without air.

I remember the panic I felt when I lost Peeta, and how grateful I was to have him to comfort me after the jabberjay attack. I don't know what I would have done if he hadn't been there to hold me in his lap and do his best to convince me that the sound of Prim's voice was a fabrication, not an imitation.

Now, we sit side by side on the beach, so that my shoulder and hip are against Peeta's. I'm watching the water, he's watching the jungle. When he takes off his locket and gives it to me, showing me the three faces pictured within, it's as if my heart breaks a little. I do love Prim, and of course Gale and my mother are important to me, but I hate that Peeta thinks they could fill the void that would be left if I lost him. If he died here and I did somehow make it home, there is no way my family and Gale would be able to make me feel better. Nothing could.

"No one really needs me," says Peeta. There's no self pity in his voice, he's merely stating a fact that is almost true.

I shift my gaze from the locket in order to look over at him. "I do," I tell him resolutely. "I need you." I'm clutching the locket tightly with both hands.

Peeta looks like he's about to say something, but he's interrupted by a clicking sound. We both look down at the locket, which I've broken in half with my tight grip. On one side, still attached to the chain, is the photo of my mother and Prim. The other side, with the picture of Gale, has been separated. I stare at it for a moment, then move away from Peeta, standing on my knees, and pitch the small metal backed photo toward the water. I don't know if I throw it far enough to reach the water, but I don't care much either.

I turn back toward Peeta with a defiant smile on my face. I hold the locket up, so he can see that the images of Prim and my mother remain, and then I put the chain around his neck again. I touch it and say, "I do want this," referring to my family. Then my hand slides over so it's resting on the left side of Peeta's chest, near where his heart is. "But only if I can have this, too."

He takes a breath and opens his mouth, as if to begin another argument, but my mind is made up. I don't care what he has to say, so I stop his lips with a kiss. Peeta tries to pull away, but I won't let him. I cup his face in my hands and insistently keep my lips attached to his. After a couple of attempts, he gives up on talking. He pulls me into his lap, so my bent knees rest on the ground on either side of his legs.

Peeta opens his mouth to allow my tongue entrance and I begin to feel this kiss throughout my whole body. Warmth rushes through me, which leads to tingling and throbbing like I felt during the night we spent together before the Quell. And, like that night, I find it hard to think about anything outside of us.

I run my hands over his chest and he moans into my mouth. I love that sound so much and I want to hear more like it. The place between my legs, which most aches for him, is lined up with his stirring erection. I want so badly to pull off what little remains of his Games uniform and make him harder with my mouth. Then I want to cast aside my own articles of clothing and sink down on him. I would give almost anything for a little privacy right now. I would love to feel him inside me again.

But somewhere, in the back of my mind, I know that's not an option. Not only would it be foolish to let Peeta and myself become so distracted when we're supposed to be keeping watch (it's irresponsible enough to be kissing like this), but I could never shame my family in that way. I just _can't_ embarrass Prim or my mother by being the only girl in the history of the Hunger Games who was brazen enough to have sex in the arena, with the whole country watching.

It's obvious that Peeta wants it too, but he must also be aware of how ridiculous it would be to give in to this nearly irrepressible desire. His hands run along my sides, then flinch downward, and I know that he was only a moment away from cupping my breasts when he thought better of it. If only we had a cave and a sleeping bag this time. Maybe then we could do what we want and hide it.

But we have no shelters, nowhere to hide, so kissing will have to do. It does feel good…more than good, and I try to be satisfied with just this. I wrap one arm around Peeta's neck and knot the other in his hair, savoring these long, luxurious kisses and loving the way his mouth feels as it strokes against mine.

For a moment I pull back to whisper, "I wish…" against his lips.

"I know," he whispers back, then engages me in another deep kiss.

_Does_ he know? Does he understand that I want to tell him I wish we could have a thousand nights like that one before the Quell? Or does he only know that I wish I could have him inside me right now?

How can I have changed so much? How can I have gone from someone who never intended to have a romantic relationship to someone who feels so desperate for the closeness that such a relationship entails? Deep down, I know the answer: it's Peeta. He's so kind, so good, and so loving that I can't resist him. He's worked his way into my heart and taken root there. I struggled against my feelings for a long time but eventually I ran out of fight. There is no denying it anymore. I want him. I want a life with him. I can't believe it's only now, when such a life is completely out of my grasp, that I can finally accept this fact.

We're brought to our senses when the lightning strikes the tree. Finnick wakes up and offers to take over for one or both of us. Peeta says Finnick shouldn't watch by himself, it's too dangerous.

"You should sleep, Katniss," he says.

I climb off his lap and allow him to lead me to a nearby place to lay down. I want him to stay with me, so we can curl up together, but I don't ask. He's already said he isn't even tired.

Before he can leave, I wrap my arms tightly around Peeta's neck and stand on tiptoe to kiss him again. After a few seconds, I let my heels return to the ground and I gaze up into his beautiful blue eyes. I feel a slow smile spread across my face and Peeta smiles back. Even though neither of us ought to feel happy right now, we do. Because we still have each other.

His hand slides over my stomach. "I hope she's as beautiful as you," he says. I know his reference to the baby signals that we're finished talking about which of us should win, at least for now, and the time out we were able to take from the Quell is over. But I'm not quite done.

I reach up and palm the locket, resting my fingers on his skin above it. "I meant what I said," I tell Peeta.

His smile fades for a moment, then returns with a new kind of sincerity. "I believe you," he says.

We hug once more, tightly, then I lay down and he goes to rejoin Finnick.

#

In the morning, I wake up with a delicious feeling of happiness that I know is because of Peeta. The sensation is so sweet that I cling to it for as long as I can and try my best to refrain from thinking of my impending death.

When I join the others for breakfast, I take a seat next to Peeta. He turns to greet me, giving me the sweetest smile. I smile back and slide closer to him so our legs are touching. He kisses my forehead and takes my hand, holding it on his knee.

#

I was right. I didn't want to be separated from Peeta, but at the time I felt like I had no choice. He would have slowed us down, and it was most practical for Johanna and I to take the wire. But now I feel sick; tormented and anguished with regret. I grit my teeth and dig my fingernails into my palms hard enough to draw blood that seeps over the remnants of Haymitch's (from when I clawed at his face). I knock my head back against the hard surface beneath me again; exasperated, furious, disconsolate. Someone gives me more morphling and my strength leaves me once more.


	6. Chapter 6

"Katniss?"

Prim.

"Katniss?"

She sounds upset. I should answer her. I part my lips but can't seem to make any sound come out. My blanket is pulled up over my head so I'm completely hidden. I hope she doesn't think I've suffocated.

"Oh, Katniss," Prim sighs. Her hand comes to rest on my back and she rubs it for a few seconds. Then her hand is gone and moments later I hear the door to our compartment here in Thirteen click shut behind her. Good. She's gone.

Of course I love Prim as much as ever, but I don't like it when she comes to the room during the day. She spends most of her time working in the hospital but each day she'll return in the afternoon to check on me. She's the only one who can persuade me to come with her to get some food in the dining hall. I have no appetite but because Prim is watching, I'll force down enough food to keep myself alive. Other than these necessary trips, I never leave the room that I share with my family.

My mother has tried to talk to me a couple of times, but I'm not as kind to her as I am to Prim. After I told her to leave me alone, she gave up on trying to console me. Perhaps it was the tone I used. I didn't shout at her, but I remember snapping icily that I didn't want to listen to what she had to say.

I think it's been several days since I was moved out of the hospital. I only half-listened as my mother spoke with one of the doctors about my condition. Together, they decided that a "normal" environment would be more conducive to my recovery. They seemed to think that my mental health would be less likely to improve were I to remain in the hospital and continue to think of myself as being ill.

But I don't feel like the move to this new room has helped any. I still feel drained and debilitated during the day and have nightmares every night. Some are about the traumas of the Games and some are about Peeta. Before I woke up today, I had one that was especially upsetting. At the start, I was standing in a long hallway which seemed to stretch on forever both in front of and behind me. It was too bright; unnaturally bright. I didn't have any control over my legs as they propelled me forward. I began to notice red smears on the floor and walls of the hallway. They were just like the ones I found on those rocks along the stream in the Games. The blood smears that helped me to find Peeta. I knew these would lead me to him, too. All of a sudden, there were bodies in front of me and I had to step over them. Rue with a spear in her stomach, Marvel with my arrow in his neck, Clove with her skull crushed, Cato, bloody and mangled by the mutts. I heard a frantic, pained scream and forced myself to tear my gaze away from the bodies at my feet before I could recognize anyone else. Peeta cried out again, and I tried to walk faster through the hallway but couldn't. All I could do was shout his name.

"Katniss!" His voice was so pained that I felt as if I was going to lose my mind. He kept screaming my name, over and over, occasionally imploring me to help him, but no matter how far I plodded down the hallway, I was unable to find the source of the cries, unable to find Peeta. I fell to the floor and began crawling through the wet blood smears, my cries consuming me. I was useless. I couldn't find him, couldn't help him. I screamed his name, as loud as I could, and then I woke up.

Now, my thoughts about this nightmare have consumed me so much that it's not until I hear Gale's voice saying my name that I realize he's come into my room. "Katniss." He sounds more forceful than Prim did. She was clearly worried, he seems more bothered.

I ignore him.

"Katniss!" He speaks louder, but doesn't quite shout.

"I told you," Prim says. "She hasn't said a word all day."

"Katniss, you need to take a bath," Gale tells me.

In lieu of responding, I shift to face the wall next to my bed, so that my back is to Prim and Gale. Suddenly, my covers are roughly ripped down and off of me.

"What the hell, Gale?" I snap, knowing that Prim would not do something like this. I turn over to face him, just in time to see him leaning forward and sliding his arms around me. "Stop it! Let me go!" I try to squirm away, but he already has me. He doesn't hold me against him, but his grip is firm as he carries me out of the room, ignoring my protestations. "What are you doing?"

It does not take long to reach the bathroom. There's a large tub filled with water and Gale drops me into it, clothes and all.

He wasn't careful enough to keep my head out of the water, and I start to sputter and cough as I sit up. I look for Gale so I can tell him off or slap him, but he's already gone. Only Prim remains. She picks up a bottle and squeezes some soapy gel onto my head, proceeding to scrub it into my oily clumps of hair.

"I need you to lean back to rinse your hair," Prim says.

I manage to raise a hand to my face and hold it over my nose, then I throw myself back into the tub, immersing my upper body completely in the tepid water. When I come back up, Prim squeezes more soap onto my hair. After I've rinsed it a second time, she pulls off the oversized shirt I've been living in and runs a soaped up sponge over my bare back.

I don't have a care in the world for my modesty at this point. What does it matter if my sister sees me like this? It's funny how much can change in a year. Before the Games, it would have felt strange to be in this situation. But now, I really don't care who sees me. My prep team, Prim, Peeta…they all have now.

I start to cry at the thought of him.

Prim asks me to stand up so that she can run the sponge over the rest of me, and then I rinse one final time and get out. Prim drapes a towel around my shoulders and then squeezes at my hair with another towel. By this time, I've stopped crying. I'm just standing there, as if in a trance.

I manage to step into a clean pair of underwear and then gray pants that Prim holds out for me. She helps me into a fresh shirt next and then slides an arm around my waist and leads me back to our room, guiding me over to a wall, which I lean against. My mother comes in with fresh bedding and strips my bed, then makes it up with clean sheets, a clean pillowcase, and puts the blanket back on.

I keep thinking that this seems so stupid and trivial. Why does it matter whether I am clean? Why does it matter whether I even have bedding, or a bed? Or anything?

My mother leaves, taking the old bed sheets away, and Prim slides her hands into mine so she can pull me toward my bed, which I crash down onto. I bury my face in the crisp pillowcase and try not to start sobbing again.

I feel a dainty hand on my back and managed to turn onto my side to face her.

"Katniss," Prim says softly, "will you let me brush your hair?"

"Yes," I say, more for her sake than my own. Why does it matter if my hair is tangled?

I sit up, moving to the edge of the bed, and Prim retrieves a brush. She kneels on the bed and scoots behind me, then begins to gently brush at my long, tangled hair.

"Let me know if I hurt you," she says after a few seconds. "I had to scrub hard, so it's really knotted."

I don't respond. She is hurting me a little, but I don't care. I wouldn't care if she ripped all of my hair out.

"Katniss, please say something," Prim says after a minute or so, when it seems like half my hair is done.

"There's nothing to say," I tell her. My voice sounds more flat and hollow than I've ever heard it before.

"There's always something to say," Prim says brightly. "You must be glad to be here with me and Mother, and out of the hospital, right?"

I don't answer.

"You're scaring me," she says softly, after a few moments of silence. "You're…" she hesitates. "This just like…what Mother did."

Prim's words are sobering. She's right, I am acting just like our mother did when our father died. "Prim…" I begin, but I let my voice trail off. I don't know what to say.

"I'm so sorry about Peeta," she says, finishing up with the second half of my hair. "I can't even imagine how you must be feeling." She moves to stand in front of me and places her hand under my chin, tilting my head up. Using a comb, she makes a neat part down the middle of my head. Then she sets the comb down and looks at me. "But…you at least need to eat more."

"You're right," I say. After a few moments I add, "I'll try to take better care of myself."

Prim smiles a little. "Good," she says. "I'm sure that's what Peeta would want, too."

Tears begin welling up in my eyes again and I press my lips together tightly.

"Oh, Katniss," Prim says, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it like that."

"No," I say with a shaky voice. "You're right."

She leans in and hugs me, then sits behind me on the bed again and begins to braid my hair back.

#

After this, I make more of an effort to behave in a way that resembles normalcy. I bathe myself, eat more meals, and answer when I am spoken to. I still cry myself to sleep every night, and can hardly remember what it's like to smile or feel any emotions other than devastation and sadness, but I try. Partly for Prim's sake, and partly because I can't stand the thought of doing what my mother did. I don't want to be like she was…not if I can help it. I tell myself I'm stronger than that.

Even though I've been behaving differently, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier inside my head. I still think about Peeta constantly. Mostly I dwell on my theories about the horrible torture that is surely being done to him the Capitol, but sometimes I'm overwhelmed with fond memories. I think of his smile, his voice, his warmth. I remember when he would come over with cheese buns, and waking up together on the train, and our day on the training center roof. I have flashbacks of when he kissed me, when he was on top of me, inside of me, holding me, loving me. I wish they would give me enough morphling to keep me asleep for a long time, until there is some kind of news about Peeta. I miss him so much it hurts and I can't bear to think of him being harmed.

But when I see Caesar interviewing him and Peeta actually looks normal and healthy, I am relieved beyond belief. I have to make a deal with Coin that I will be the Mockingjay, symbol of the rebellion, in exchange for immunity for Peeta if the Capitol is overthrown (because he said there should be a ceasefire). I still don't go to training, but I go along with being filmed for the propos until I realize that Peeta is being harmed as a punishment for my appearances in them. Seeing his deteriorated condition in yet another interview with Caesar is more horrifying than the worst nightmares I've ever had, because this is not something I can wake up from. They're hurting him and it's all my fault.

I'm a wreck the whole time the rescue team is gone. Of course I can't sleep, and I end up in a room with Finnick. We make knots, barely talk and try to hang on to our sanity. Over and over I think, _Please come back, Peeta. Please be okay_.

It's after midnight when Haymitch comes and pushes open the door to tell us, "They're back. We're wanted in the hospital." I open my mouth to question him, but he cuts me off by saying, "That's all I know."

I run out of the room, unable to think of anything but Peeta. By the time I find Boggs, Haymitch has caught up to me. "We got them all out," Boggs says. "Peeta's at the end of the hall. The effects of the gas are just wearing off. You should be there when he wakes."

He's here! I can't believe it! I can't believe I actually have him back. Fleetingly, I hope he won't have to stay here in the hospital for very long, because I want us to have a room together where we can be alone.

"Come on, then," Haymitch says with a grin, and we follow Boggs down the hall.

I'm lightheaded with giddiness. _Peeta's here, here with me._ Safe and alive and away from Snow. My stomach feels like it's doing somersaults and my heart is racing.

We reach his room and Peeta's awake already, sitting on the side of the bed and looking bewildered as a trio of doctors reassure him, flash lights in his eyes and check his pulse. His condition looks about the same as in that last interview. Warmth rushes through me just at the sight of him.

I'm disappointed that mine was not the first face he saw when he woke, but he sees it now. His features register disbelief and something else that I can't quite place. Desire? Desperation? It must be both, because he sweeps the doctors aside, leaps to his feet and moves toward me. I run to meet him, my arms extended to embrace him. He's reaching for me, to caress my face, I think.

My lips are just forming his name when his hands close around my throat.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** Some of the dialogue in this chapter is lifted directly from _Mockingjay_. I do not own it, and still do not own any of the characters or settings.

* * *

There wasn't any permanent damage done, but I'm to stay in the hospital for a couple of days and am not supposed to speak. I want to ask for another doctor, in addition to the ones who have attended to my neck injury and determined that I will be all right physically. I need to speak to someone who can tell me whether or not I've lost my mind. It certainly feels as if I have. I feel like I'm trapped in one of my nightmares, with no hope of escape. I want to scream, but I know the pain that would cause would only make me more miserable, so I refrain.

"The team of doctors might be able to help him," Prim says. She's been doing everything she can to help me, reassure me, keep me comfortable. I was right here, listening intently, when we were told about Peeta's hijacking, but Prim seems to think that reminding me of some of the details we were told will help me feel better.

I close my eyes.

"Beetee said he felt optimistic that Peeta could make a full recovery," she reminds me.

Of course I can't answer her verbally, but I open my eyes to acknowledge what she's said.

"Just…don't feel hopeless, okay? You remember when I asked to you try as hard as you could to win the Games, and not give up?"

I nod minutely.

"Well, if Peeta could, I'm sure he would ask you not to give up on him now. When someone you love needs you, like Peeta does, you have to do whatever you can for them. No matter how impossible it feels, you can't give up on them. I never gave up hoping that you would come home from the Games. Even though there wasn't really anything I could do, I thought about you constantly and tried to picture you coming home."

But Peeta hates me and wants to _kill_ me. I can't even talk to him, because there's no way he would listen to anything I have to say.

"The important thing is that he's alive and safe now," Prim says, reassuringly squeezing my hand.

I know she's right. I know that having Peeta back, in any condition, is better than knowing he's still being tortured. But still, I was completely unprepared for _this_. I never imagined that if I got him back, he would no longer love me or want me. I can't believe this has happened. I can't believe he hates me, but the bruises on my neck are proof.

#

After I've been let out of the hospital, I feel restless in my room, so I decide to wander around the corridors. Eventually, I make my way down to Special Defense, where I find Gale in a research room with Beetee. They're immersed in their work, both carefully studying a drawing. Other versions of the plan lay scattered around.

When I hoarsely ask about what they've been up to, Beetee waves me over to a computer screen. He explains the ways in which they have been using the ideas behind Gale's traps and adapting them into weapons, bombs mostly. Some of the things they're coming up with don't sit right with me. After hearing their plans for a weapon that causes a bomb to explode, then after time is allowed for people to come and help the wounded, a second and more powerful explosion occurs, I speak up.

"That seems to be crossing some kind of line," I say. "So anything goes?" Beetee looks at me with doubt, Gale with annoyance. "I guess there isn't a rule book for what might be unacceptable to do to another human being."

"Sure there is. Beetee and I have been following the same rule book President Snow used when he hijacked Peeta," Gale says.

My teeth grit together and I'm suddenly overwhelmed with fury, a fury that I can feel coursing throughout my body. How dare he bring up Peeta like this? It's cruel. Beyond cruel.

I want to shout, but my injured throat still prevents me. In the coldest tone I can muster, I say, "_Great_. So you can make other people feel as miserable as I feel about Peeta right now?"

"We're at war, Katniss," Gale retorts.

I'm so angry. All of my rage over everything - what's happened to Peeta, the destruction of Twelve, the fact that I've failed in my plan to never love anyone but Prim - is bubbling to the surface. I seem to have started an argument and I am determined to win it now.

"You should never kill people who aren't attacking you, people who aren't trained to kill you. Otherwise it's the same as what they did by forcing us into the Games." I look to Beetee, imploring him to understand. His expression seems to have changed slightly and I know he's listening and considering what I've said. I look back over at Gale and add, "And you want to kill those who come in to _help_? Medics like my mother, and Prim when she's older?" I've raised my voice now and my throat hurts so bad that tears spring to my eyes. I don't want them to see me cry, so I turn and run out of the room, but not before I catch a glimpse of Gale's stricken reaction to the last thing I said. He looks as if I've slapped him.

#

"He says he'd like to see you," Haymitch tells me the night of Finnick and Annie's wedding.

I have to lean against a wall to steady myself. I can't believe it, can't believe Peeta's finally asked for me. I've wanted to visit him every minute of every day but I knew that no good could come of it if he wasn't ready to see me yet.

At midnight, earpiece in place, I'm standing outside Peeta's hospital room. I wish we could speak privately, but his doctors believe it's important for them to study his reaction to me, so they are already in place behind one-way glass in the next room. When Haymitch gives me the okay, I push the door open.

He looks better, healthier, and has restraints on both of his arms. His blue eyes lock onto me and stare warily, clearly still not convinced that I'm not a mutt. I walk toward him until I'm standing a yard or so away from his bed and hug myself around my ribcage. "Hey," I say.

"Hey," Peeta says, with a clear edge of suspicion in his voice.

Even though this is a vast improvement over our last meeting, I'm still upset by how cold he seems. I can hardly stand it, but I have to help him if I can. I have to convince him that I care for him. "I'm glad you asked to see me."

He stares at me for a long time, scrutinizing me, and I hold his gaze. "You're not very big, are you? Or particularly pretty?"

This isn't Peeta. Peeta would never talk to me like this. Peeta thinks I'm beautiful, he told me so in the Quell. I almost feel like responding with cruelty to match his own; perhaps I could point out that he's looked better, too.

_But he _is_ Peeta_, I remind myself. He's just confused. This isn't his fault. I can't let myself be hurt by what he says, because he doesn't really mean it.

"I'm sorry," I mumble.

"What's that?" Peeta says curtly.

"I'm sorry," I say louder, "that you're not happy to see me."

He doesn't answer, just continues to stare at me with suspicion. I decide that his silence is an improvement over insulting me, so I speak again. "_I_ was happy when Haymitch said you wanted to see me. I've been hoping you would ask for me."

Peeta rapidly blinks twice, then keeps his eyes shut. A crease forms in his brow and he takes a shuddering breath. Oh, no. Have I done something wrong?

Haymitch's voice in my ear tells me to give Peeta a minute and I nod.

After a few seconds, he opens his eyes and looks at me again, this time perhaps with less hostility. "I remember about the bread," he says.

The bread. Our one moment of real connection before the Hunger Games. "What do you remember?"

"You. In the rain," he says softly, "digging in our trash bins. Burning the bread. My mother hitting me. Taking the bread out for the pig but giving it to you instead."

"That's right," I breathe. "That's what happened."

"And when I saw you at school the next day, I tried to catch your eye but you looked away. And then I think you picked a dandelion."

I nod, overwhelmed that he's actually speaking to me in a normal tone of voice.

"I must have loved you a lot."

My voice catches as I say, "You did."

"And did you love me?" Peeta asks.

My gaze drops to the tiled floor. I don't feel prepared for this conversation, especially not when we have an audience. Seconds pass and I begin to feel foolish for my hesitancy, as it may hinder his recovery. I lift my gaze back up to Peeta and he's looking at me in a way that seems to pull my answer right out of me. He looks more worried and confused than anything else and it breaks my heart.

"Yes," I say. I clear my throat and explain, "I mean, not then, not when you threw the bread. But later on I started to."

"When?"

"I don't know exactly," I admit. "But I do _now_."

"You do?" He looks as if he doesn't believe me, maybe because I haven't said the right words.

"Of course I love you," I blurt out. Saying the words aloud seems to make me realize just how true they are. I do love him. It's the only thing that makes sense. Why else would I have been so miserable and disconsolate when he was in the Capitol after the Quell? Why else would I have told him in the Quell that I only wanted a life with my family if he could be a part of that life, too? Why else would I have done what we did the night before the Quell? At the time, I felt like I was motivated mostly by the knowledge that I was going to die soon and it was my last chance to have that kind of experience, but looking back on it I can see that there was more to it than that. If I had somehow found myself in a similar situation with Gale, I can't imagine that I would have wanted to have sex with him. I've never wanted him the way I want Peeta. I've never loved anyone the way I love Peeta.

He seems to be at a loss for words. His expression quickly changes a few times, almost as if he's having some kind of internal battle with himself. Eventually, he looks at me with what seems to be disbelief. "I saw the tape of when you tried to kill me with those tracker jackers in that first arena," he says in an accusatory tone.

"I didn't know you were on my side," I explain. "You and the careers had me treed."

"Later on, there was a lot of kissing but it didn't seem very genuine on your part."

I feel terrible. I've admitted that I love him and he doesn't seem to believe it. He's been hijacked, I remind myself again, it's going to take more than a few words to bring him back.

"I didn't know if you meant it either," I say. "I was just trying to keep us alive."

"So you didn't - _love_ - me then?"

I don't know how to answer him. If I say no, he might get upset but I doubt he would believe me if I say yes.

"What about Gale?" he persists.

My eyes dart over to the mirror. This is no one's business but mine and Peeta's. I can't believe even here our relationship has to be viewed and studied by an audience.

"Gale's my friend," I say simply.

"But you've kissed him," Peeta says.

It's upsetting that his memories are so deteriorated, yet he remembers this detail. "Twice," I say. "But not since -" I stop myself and try to think of a way to get my point across. Obviously I can't say, _Not since you and I had sex the night before the Quell, because ever since then I haven't felt any more attracted to Gale than I would if he were my brother_, even though that's what I would like to tell Peeta.

"Not since when?"

"Not since the night after he was whipped. I was very upset because I thought he might die, but I regretted it the next day."

"Because of me?"

"Partly," I say, "but mostly because I had more important things to think about and kissing anyone seemed pointless and frivolous."

Peeta flinches against his restraints and I reflexively take a step back from him. In my earpiece, Haymitch tells me that the doctors say I've talked to Peeta enough for now. They think that a prolonged conversation in which I say more things that confuse or upset him could be more harmful to his condition than beneficial.

"I think we've talked enough for now," I say, backing up toward the door. "Goodnight."

Peeta doesn't answer, just closes his eyes. Without another word, I turn and leave, fighting my tears until I get back to my room.

#

With permission granted, Peeta sits down beside Johanna at the table. I'm surprised to see him here. Lately, I've been training and giving Peeta the space he seems to need. I don't understand why he feels comfortable joining us for a meal, but hasn't asked to speak to me alone again.

The life has gone out of our little party. Everyone is silent now. I mindlessly shovel food into my mouth and try not to crumple under the weight of Peeta's hard stare.

When I can no longer bear it, I lift my eyes from my food and stare back at him. "Is there something you want to say?" I ask.

Peeta's eyes flit over to Gale for a moment, then lock onto me again. "I've got some memories I can't make sense of and I don't think the Capitol touched them. A lot of nights on the train?"

"We both had nightmares and when we woke up from them, it helped to have each other there for comfort," I say quickly, attempting to sound nonchalant. I don't want to discuss this now, but if Peeta does, I know I have to. I have to help him.

More silence at the table.

"What about the night before the Quell?" Peeta asks.

I feel angry with him until I look into his eyes again. He's not trying to humiliate me, he's just trying to reconstruct his memories. I can't blame him for that. I also can't blame him for bringing this up now. He might feel more comfortable in this setting, which is more relaxed and perhaps less stress inspiring than his room in the hospital.

"Maybe you should tell him about it," Finnick says with seeming sincerity. "It might help him."

Is this really happening? I glance around, trying to gauge if everyone heard what Finnick just said, and if they understood it. Peeta still looks confused and skeptical, Johanna seems surprised and amused, Annie is staring down at her food, and Gale looks shocked and incredulous. Yes, everyone knows what Peeta was asking, and what Finnick meant by what he said.

After all of the times I've been in dangerous situations, wouldn't it be ironic if I were to die right now? Not of some injury, but of the embarrassment that has set my face and neck aflame? At the moment, I feel like it's a very real possibility.

I can't take this. I've completely lost my appetite so I stand up, poised to run away and go back to my room, but Peeta abruptly reaches out and grabs my wrist, holding tight.

I stare down at his hand. This gesture is not as gentle as he used to be with me, but his grip doesn't hurt, it merely restrains. My gaze raises to meet his and he looks at me pleadingly. "Will you visit with me again? In my room?"

I nod without thinking.

"When we're done eating," Peeta says, releasing my wrist.

I sit back down, overwhelmed by this turn of events. Somehow, I manage to finish my food, and then Peeta and I stand up and leave the room together, followed by his two guards.


	8. Chapter 8

I obtain permission to visit with Peeta in private, provided he's cuffed into his restraints. I feel foolish for hoping he's recovered enough to want to hold me, but I can't help it. I want to be able to un-cuff him if this visit goes well, so when the guard who locked the restraints is walking out of the room, I silently follow him toward the door so I can carefully lift the key out of his back pocket and surreptitiously shove it into my own pocket. The guard closes the door behind him and I push a chair in front of it. The chair would not be heavy enough to stop anyone who really wanted to get into the room, but it will at least provide some resistance and certainly make enough noise to alert me quickly if someone is coming in.

I shouldn't be so worried about privacy, I know. There's no reason to think the doctors will go back on their word, or that a guard would come back in. But I can't help it. I want to be able to speak candidly with Peeta, and if there's a chance anyone might hear, I may not be able to say what needs to be said. I go over to the mirror and cup my hands around my eyes and against the glass so that I can see into the next room. It's empty.

"What are you planning to do to me?" Peeta asks, in response to the lengths I'm going to in order to secure solitude for us.

Slowly, I turn my head to look at him. He's sitting on his bed, arms bound, and leaning back against the wall above the bed. He's almost smiling, I think. Was he joking or does he really think I intend to harm him? It's hard to be sure.

"Nothing," I say casually. He looks disappointed. Perhaps he _was_ joking and wants me to play along? "I mean, nothing you don't ask for."

He doesn't smile or laugh, like I was hoping, but he doesn't look angry or confused either. His face is impassive, as if he's just waiting for me to say more.

I move to stand at the foot of his bed and we just look at each other for a few seconds. I don't know what to do with my hands so I cup them together behind my back. I want to speak, but what am I supposed to say? He should be the one to talk first. He needs to tell me how much he's recovered so I can at least know if he still hates me, or if he merely dislikes me or if -

"Sit down," Peeta says.

Peeta's legs are crossed in front of him and I think I would have time to jump away if he moved them to kick me, so I decide it won't be dangerous to do as he says. Tentatively, I climb onto the bottom of the bed and sit with my knees bent and my legs swept to one side.

When I can no longer bear the silence I ask, "What made you want to see me again?"

Peeta bites the inside of his cheek and looks down at his lap. "I saw the footage of us on the beach in the Quell."

I have a few thoughts in quick succession: _Has that convinced him how much I cared for him? Why didn't the doctors show him that clip sooner? I shouldn't get my hopes up, he's still acting cold toward me._

"Oh?" I say, because I don't know what else to say.

"Yeah." Peeta's eyes raise to meet mine. It feels strange to have him look at me so much without ever smiling; I'm not used to it.

"And?" I prompt.

He sighs. "It looked like we…like we knew each other _really_ well."

Huh. Was it that obvious? I nod.

"So I started trying to imagine what it might have been like if we'd ever…been intimate."

_Talk faster!_

"And I started picturing things. Details that I don't think I would have been creative enough to invent. They felt like memories."

"Good memories?" I ask. He doesn't answer, so I clarify, "I mean, I was nice, right? I wasn't trying to hurt you or anything."

"You were perfect," he says in a low voice.

Oh, God. That voice, the way he's looking at me…it's a struggle to refrain from jumping on him. I command myself to keep breathing evenly and not give away how he's affecting me. _Stay calm and be helpful; that's what he needs_, I remind myself.

"We did, then?" he asks.

Did? Oh… "Yes," I say. "The night before the Quell, we did…everything."

"Everything?"

"All of the _normal_ things," I say, blushing. Then I shrug. "We loved each other."

Peeta bites his bottom lip and seems lost in thought. After a few seconds he asks, "How does _Finnick_ know about it?"

I can't help laughing, because it seems so absurd that Finnick knows, but I quickly clap my hand over my mouth to stop myself. Peeta looks at me with suspicion.

"Sorry," I mutter, then awkwardly clear my throat. "Finnick knows because you went to his room to ask him for protection, so I wouldn't get pregnant, but we didn't end up needing anything because I'd been given a shot."

"There was never really a baby, then."

I shake my head. "What do you remember happening that night?"

He hesitates and, when he finally speaks, it's clear that he feels uncomfortable. "I was laying down and you sat on your heels beside me and…touched yourself."

I'd forgotten about that. But he's right, I did, for a few seconds. I nod.

"I almost lost it just from watching you," he mumbles.

His words make it hard for me to think. "What else?"

Peeta licks his lips and averts his eyes from mine. "I remember sliding my hands up your thighs and then leaning down and letting them rest on my shoulders. Pressing your hips into the bed to keep you still."

Right again.

"Tell me what else happened," Peeta says, looking at me again. "Tell me everything."

"Will you believe me?"

"I want to believe you."

I suppose I can't ask for more that that. "All right," I say quietly. I fold my hands together in my lap and stare down at them as I speak. I actually do a pretty good job at telling him about it, while still avoiding using words that I don't feel comfortable saying. It's not easy, talking like this, but telling the story is almost like reliving the night. I remember vividly how much I felt for him, and recalling such intense feelings inspires me to want to help him now.

I finish with "…And then you held me in your lap for a while and we kissed some more." It's now that I let my gaze drift up to look at Peeta. His eyes are closed, his lips parted a little, and he's breathing slowly. After a few moments, his eyes open and fix on my face, then he looks me up and down.

He doesn't appear to be happy, exactly, but somehow it seems like he wants me again. I pull out the key to his restraints. "Do you want me to un-cuff you?" I ask. _Please say yes. Please love me again._

Peeta's gaze flits down to his lap and he quickly draws his knees up and sits in a different way, like he's trying to hide something.

"I don't think would be a good idea," Peeta says.

"Why not?"

He doesn't answer.

"Peeta?" I reach forward and rest my hand on his sock-covered foot, which is the only part of him I can reach. "Please talk to me."

"I don't trust myself."

"But…you don't _want_ to hurt me, right?"

"Of course I don't want to hurt you," he says quickly.

"Then why…?"

Peeta shakes his head. "I don't know how to explain it. I have remembered some things, but I'm still so confused about other things. And I still have…bad thoughts. About you."

"You aren't thinking them right now, though?"

"No, but they could come back."

I want to tell him how sorry I am. I know it's all my fault this was done to him and I can't even imagine how he must feel. To lose your memories and not know who you can trust? To have horrible, false memories that feel real? It must be terrifying.

But if I do apologize to him, I'm afraid it won't go well. I'm afraid it will make him angry with me if I admit blame for his condition. Instead I say, "What do you think about what I just told you?"

"I remembered more of it while you were talking. Not everything you said sounded familiar, but I believe you about all of it." He pauses, hesitating, and then blurts out, "I want to be with you like that again - now."

"I'll un-cuff you, then," I say, reaching in my pocket. This might even help him recover.

"No," Peeta insists. "I might not be able to control myself. Believe me, Katniss. I want you now, but that could change without warning. Especially if we…if I was distracted and not concentrating on staying in control and not hurting you."

I frown and shift uncomfortably. "Okay," I say. "You know I'm leaving for the Capitol soon?"

"I know," Peeta says.

That's it, then. He still doesn't love me again, doesn't even trust himself to be around me unless he's restrained. I'll leave with the sharpshooting squad, go to the Capitol, hopefully kill Snow, and then likely die for my trouble. This is all there is for us. This is the end of us. It's probably for the best that he no longer loves me the way he used to. If he never fully recovers from the hijacking, he'll be able to get over losing me. Maybe he can even find some nice girl to love, a girl who deserves him.

"Don't cry," Peeta says softly.

I hadn't realized I was, but now that he's called it to my attention, I use both hands to wipe at my face. I blink a couple of times and am able to stop the tears.

"How much do you remember?" I ask, curious about what condition I'll be leaving him in.

"I don't know," he says, looking away from me. "I remember a lot about the Games and the Quell. I mean, as they show it to me, it comes back. But I don't remember much about living in Twelve, or my family."

That's probably for the best. He doesn't have to miss them as much as he would otherwise. "And…me?" I can't resist asking.

"I remember that I loved you and that you saved me in the Games. But there are still times when…what they did to me takes over and controls me. It makes me want to hurt you. But then a while later, it'll go away I won't hate you anymore. It's almost like being two different people."

Or perhaps like he's being controlled by two different things? Sometimes his corrupted mind takes over, while other times his heart is in control?

"When you have an episode of bad thoughts, can you feel it coming on?" I ask.

He thinks for a moment, then says, "I guess, now that you mention it. Before it gets really bad, I start to just feel upset."

"Can I kiss you?"

I'm surprised by how quickly he says, "Yes," and that there's no hesitation in his voice.

Of course I'm happy he's agreed, but knowing that it will be a kiss goodbye prevents me from being too thrilled. Slowly, I scoot toward him on the bed. He's still leaning against the wall, and he watches me carefully as I get closer. I watch him, too, but his face remains mostly inexpressive. If anything, I'd say he looks curious.

As I get closer, he licks his lips and I do the same. I reach up, cupping both hands around his jaw. "This okay?" I whisper, and he nods. Slowly, I lean my head forward. In the moment before Peeta closes his eyes, I'm struck by how lovely they are. They're the best kind of blue. Not blue-gray or blue-green, just a deep, rich blue. I let my eyes dart around his face, up to his hair, which falls in smooth waves, down over his cheeks and nose, then finally to his lips.

I've kissed him so many times, and now I feel foolish for taking nearly all of those kisses for granted. I should have appreciated and savored each and every one, but I was too busy questioning my feelings for him and thinking about other things, things outside of us. But now that this last kiss is here, I can't believe how sad it makes me feel. And I can't believe how much I wish we could have a second chance.

Although maybe Peeta was right the night before the Quell, when he said that the moment we threatened to eat the berries, we started something that could not be stopped. Looking back on it, I feel like there was never any hope for us. We needed each other to survive the Games, but the fact that we both survived will likely still lead to my death. In fact, it's what I'm expecting.

Peeta opens his eyes and I realize that while I've been toiling internally, he's been waiting to be kissed. "Sorry," I say, leaning in further. His eyes fall shut just before mine do and an instant later our lips meet.

It's now that I realize we haven't exactly done things in the right order. We went straight from fake kisses (at least, that's how I thought of them), and trying to be friends, to sex. There should have been more real kisses and touches before we had that night together. Real kisses are nice…more than nice. I love this.

It's been a couple of seconds, and our lips are still closed, just touching each other's. Unless he tells me otherwise, I'm going to assume he likes what I do. I open my mouth slightly, brushing my bottom lip against Peeta's, and he responds with a small movement of his own mouth. I part my lips further and he does the same. I'm surprised when his tongue seeks mine out. When they touch he lets out a soft hum and I can't help sighing a little. Warmth is flooding through me and I know that this is what it should have always felt like to kiss him. Maybe this _is_ how it always felt for Peeta.

He tilts his head further to the side and keeps moving his lips against mine gently. This kiss has none of the urgency of the ones in (or the night before) the Quell. It's slower, more loving somehow. I try, through this kiss, to let him know how much I care for him. I try to make up for all those times I kissed him and didn't mean it.

I can feel him everywhere. My chest, my stomach, all the way down to the tips of my fingers and toes. This is a moment that _I_ wish I could freeze and live in forever.

I don't know how long it's been - minutes? - when Peeta tenses. I pull back to look at him. "Are you okay?"

His eyes are squeezed shut and he seems to be having a hard time breathing. "You should go," he says.

"Can I do anything for you?"

"No, just go," he repeats.

I stand up and move toward the door, then turn back and say, "Do you want me to send a doctor in?"

"No! They can't help me." He flinches against his restraints and turns his head toward the wall next to his bed. "Just go, Katniss!"

I push the chair out of the way, open the door and step out, shutting it behind me. That was a foolish thing to do, I know. It was selfish to ask to kiss him, when it's clearly had a bad effect on him, being so close to me. But…it did seem like he was enjoying it before the relapse happened.

I toss the key to Peeta's restraints at the guard I stole it from, then turn and walk away, down the hall, before he can speak to me.

I don't feel much like going back to my room right now. I want to be alone, so I head toward the utility closet I've been spending time in whenever I need seclusion. On my way there, I almost feel like crying again, but it seems like I can't. I guess I've cried enough. The only consolation I have left is that I can still kill the person who did this to Peeta. I realize quickly that anger feels much better than sadness.


	9. Chapter 9

I enter the utility closet, shutting the door behind me, then lean back against it and sink to the floor. I try to stay calm, but it's hard. I feel like throwing a fit. I want nothing more than to help Peeta and it's unbelievably frustrating that all I was able to do for him was leave his room. In order to maintain my sanity, I tell myself that his relapse is over by now and that he was fine as soon as I got out of his sight.

As the minutes pass, I try to focus on the good things that happened during my visit with Peeta. He's recovered so much since the strangling incident. It's nice that he doesn't seem to think I'm a mutt anymore, and it's good that he's remembered things about the Games and the Quell. I want him to get better and be able to have a normal life after the war.

And the kiss…that was nice. I close my eyes and brush my fingertips over my lips. Unwittingly, I start imagining what might have happened if Peeta had been recovered enough to let me unlock his restraints. We could have kissed in a different way; more heatedly. We probably would have rushed to pull each other's clothes off, and I bet he'd have shifted us so that he was on top of me. He would have pushed inside me, and I know it would have felt even better than it did the night before the Quell. I doubt there would have been pain this time.

I sigh, wanting him so much, and let my hand drift down. I slip it underneath my pants and underwear with the intent of mimicking the way he touched me that night. I'm surprised at how wet I am. I suppose the way Peeta was looking at me before the kiss, and the kiss itself, did this to me.

I move my fingers in circles around my nerve center. It's not quite enough, so I slide two fingers inside and use the heel of my hand to rub myself. I'm not nearly as full as I would be if Peeta were inside me, but I try to imagine it's him there. That it's him touching me, making me feel so good.

I stay quiet, squeezing my eyes shut and letting out a sigh when I lose control. It feels like my inner walls are trying to crush my fingers and I can't help thinking that it's too bad Peeta never got to feel this…I bet he would have liked it.

I take a couple minutes to recover, then make my way to the bathroom to wash up for the night. I've barely made it through the door of the room I share with Johanna when she speaks to me.

"How's your husband?"

"Ha ha," I say flatly, sitting down on my bed. After a few moments I decide to tell her, "We talked for a while…before he got upset and sent me away."

Johanna nods and resumes fussing with her fingernails. I can't be sure what she's doing from this distance, but it seems like she's shoving her cuticles down forcefully. "Too bad."

"Yeah."

"When you left together, I assumed..."

"What?"

Johanna's gaze raises to meet mine. "It seemed like you were going off to have sex, after what Finnick said."

_I wish_. "Not today," I say. She clearly knows that Peeta and I have done that in the past, so I don't see the point in being evasive about it. The embarrassment I felt at dinner has faded into apathy.

Johanna smirks. "Your cousin looked kind of upset about it. He left in a huff right after you and Peeta took off."

I am sorry if Gale was hurt by finding out just how close Peeta and I were, but there's nothing to be done. Besides, if that kissing footage from the Quell is like Peeta described, it can't have come as a complete shock to Gale.

I sigh, then pull out my military tactics book and try to study it. But of course thoughts of Peeta distract me.

#

When I'm saying goodbye to my mother and Prim, right before Squad 451 is set to leave, I'm surprised to see Peeta arrive. He looks around, spots me, and walks briskly toward me. His wrists are cuffed together in front of him, but he takes both my hands in his. "I remember working on the plant book together," he says.

I manage to smile. "That's good."

"And I would always bring you -" he seems to be struggling to remember.

"Cheese buns," I offer.

Peeta smiles. "Right. They're your favorite."

Before I can respond, Boggs announces to everyone that it's time for us to leave. I turn back to Peeta and he throws his cuffed wrists behind my back, pulling me in for a hug. I feel him slip a piece of paper into my back pocket and he whispers, "Look at it later."

I nod and he releases me, looking at me sadly. He opens his mouth to speak, but seems to think better of it and stops himself. Fearful of bursting into tears at any moment, I hug my mother and then give Prim one last tight hug, during which I whisper, "Please help him if you can. I love you." Prim agrees to do as I've said and tells me that she loves me too. I turn away and leave with the rest of the squad.

The first chance I get, I take the paper out of my pocket and look at it. In Peeta's writing, it simply says: _Stay alive (please)._

I can't help smiling. He's remembered Haymitch's sardonic first bit of advice to us, and added his own sweet touch to it. I'm glad Peeta wants me to stay alive, and of course I'll try my best. For his sake as well as Prim's.

#

When Peeta arrives as a replacement soldier, I'm shocked. But it doesn't take me long to figure out that Coin must have had him sent because she wants me dead.

It's incredibly sad and upsetting when Peeta has relapses. I try my best to help him remember what's real. I don't want to overwhelm him, so I don't talk much about the past, but whenever he asks me questions I answer them as best I can. I also carry the key to his handcuffs in my pocket, so it rests right against the pearl he gave me.

When we're fleeing through the underground tunnels and Peeta asks to be left behind, saying he can't hang on, I refuse without hesitation. Even though that kiss in Thirteen seemed to upset him, and trigger the relapse, I have to try again. What else can I do? I press my lips to his and he shudders, but I don't release him until I need air. I'm immensely relived that this kiss seems to have brought him back to me. Perhaps it's because he's slowly getting better all the time? I hope that's the reason.

I hate separating from Peeta when we leave Tigris' shop, but I know there's nothing else to be done. Neither of us will be free from danger until the war is over, so I have no choice but to try to find Snow and end it. I hate to even think this, but Peeta would slow me down, especially in his current condition. And if he was with me, I would be preoccupied with worrying about his safety, so we'd both be more at risk.

#

I'm almost there, almost to the barricade, when I think Prim hears me. She catches sight of me and her lips form my name.

I wave frantically, trying to gesture for her to come toward me, but she hesitates, looking down at the child she's just given her coat to. I move forward, rushing through the crowd of massacred children, until I reach Prim. Reflexively, I throw my arms around her and squeeze tightly. "We have to get out of here," I say.

Prim pushes me back gently, so that she can look up at me. "I can't. I have to help the children." She looks horrified and sad about what we've witnessed, about the deaths and agony that still surrounds us, but is managing to keep calm like she always does when providing care.

I can't accept what she's said. I know that the children need help, but I'm too selfish to think about them at this point. I'm too selfish to let my sister stay here, in this dangerous situation. I am going to get her out of here, no matter what.

I quickly look around and see that so many of the children are dead already. I then glance behind Prim and observe the abundance of rebel medics who have flooded into the area. Taking hold of Prim's shoulders, I turn her around so she can look at them and I lean down to speak in her ear. "Please, Prim. There are plenty of other people to help. There are more than enough."

She turns back toward me and I can tell by her expression that she is planning to protest, but we don't have time to argue. More bombs could be dropped any second. And it's not as if I'm lying. There are plenty of medics here to help the wounded children. They don't need Prim, and she's too young to be on the front lines like this anyway. Something about her being sent here, when she's only thirteen, scares me. It should not have happened and I am determined to right this wrong.

I stare into her eyes and say forcefully. "Listen to me. Think of Mother, please. Think of what happened to her five years ago. She wouldn't survive losing you, too," I say. _And neither would I_. "It would destroy her. And you're too young to be out here."

I can see Prim's resolve slipping away but am afraid that I have to do just a little more convincing. I don't want to say this, but after the loss of most of the Star Squad, as well as the horrors I've witnessed since we left Tigris' shop, I am desperate. I've seen so much carnage and can't even bear the thought of the person I love more than any other meeting a similar fate. "Prim," I say, "I didn't take your place in the Games just so you could die here."

The implication is clear: she owes me her life, so she should do anything I tell her to. Prim's eyes widen and she bites her lip. I start to regret playing this card, as I've obviously upset her. But then she nods her head, and I know that I've done the right thing. I've done what I have to in order to keep her safe.

I take her hand in mine. We see another medic coming to help the nearest child just as I begin pulling Prim through the crowd. No one seems to notice us as we make our way out, past the opened barricades and back into the City Circle.

I don't know where we're going, and am aware that we still have the pods to fear, but I don't stop moving. Not until we reach a building that is intact, somewhat removed from the crowds, and appears deserted. The big door in front is locked, but I spot a medium-sized window, well hidden by an artificial plant. I glance around and see that no one is looking, then I climb through the window and Prim follows me. We're in some sort of shop that's clearly been ransacked, likely by others who entered the same way we have.

I drop Prim's hand and scan around the barren space. Around a corner from the door, I find a staircase. "Come this way," I say. Prim follows me up to the second floor, where we find two doors. One leads to a bathroom and the other to an empty storage room with pipes and rafters showing. The room isn't big in depth or width, but it has a high ceiling.

I walk to the far wall of the room and peek through a window so high that I have to stand on my toes just to see out the bottom of it. No one will be able to see Prim here. She'll be safe, or at least as safe as she can be while she's away from District Thirteen.

I let my heels drop back to the ground and turn to face Prim. "This is a good place for you to stay," I tell her.

She slowly comes into the room, closing the door behind her, then sits in a corner and buries her face in her hands. I hurry to her side and wrap my arms around her.

"How could they do that, Katniss?" she asks with a shaky voice.

"I don't know," I say. I'm as perplexed as she is. I can't imagine why the Capitol would do that to the children. They were obviously there to serve a purpose, and be Snow's human shield, so why would he decide to destroy them? It makes no sense to me.

Nor does Prim's presence here. In hopes of distracting her, if nothing else, I ask, "Have there been a lot medics from Thirteen killed recently?"

Prim lifts her tear-stained face from her hands and shakes her head.

"Was there a policy change of the age at which people can be sent to the front lines?"

"Not that I know of," Prim says softly.

I explain, "I'm just trying to understand why you're here. It doesn't make sense. You're too young."

"I don't know why I was sent here. There are a couple other people my age who work in the hospital in Thirteen, but as far as I know they're still there. One of the medic coordinators told me I was to go on this trip, so I came. I wasn't really given a choice."

"What about Mother? Didn't she try to stop you from leaving Thirteen?"

"She was already gone before I was assigned to come here. I don't know where she is now."

We're both silent for a couple of minutes while I consider the possible weight of Prim's assignation. Did Coin arrange this on purpose? It was one thing to send Peeta to kill me, but would she really go out of her way to put my sister in danger in order to upset me? Or in hopes of driving me insane?

I give my head a little shake, in an attempt to clear it. I don't want to think like that. If I think about Prim being put in an unsafe situation because of me, I _will_ lose my mind…if I haven't already.

"What happened to the sharpshooting squad?" Prim asks.

"We lost most of them." I don't really want to talk about this, because I'm afraid it will upset her, but I suppose hearing about the deaths of the Star Squad couldn't possibly be worse than what we both just witnessed outside. "There were pods - deathtraps - everywhere…and some mutts." I shiver at the thought of them.

"Who else is still alive?"

"Cressida, Pollux, and Peeta…and Gale, I guess. I saw him get captured before I found you."

"Oh," Prim says gravely, "I'm sorry, Katniss."

I nod, still feeling guilty that I didn't shoot him like I was supposed to. Then my thoughts drift back to Peeta and again I hope he returned to Tigris' shop. I know it's unlikely but I can't bear to think of him out there in that mayhem. Tears drip down my cheeks and I feel Prim's soft fingers brushing them away. I close my eyes and try to will myself to be strong, for her sake. But I'm so tired and so worried about Gale and Peeta. In spite of my good intentions, Prim ends up comforting me. I rest my head on her shoulder and continue to cry while she runs her hand up and down my back.

"I was supposed to shoot him," I sob out, "Gale. I was supposed to make sure they didn't capture him and I couldn't even do that." _And now they're probably doing horrible things to him, just like they did to Peeta. _

"It's not your fault, Katniss." Prim sounds so sure that I almost believe her. After a few seconds she asks, "How's Peeta been doing?"

I calm down and am able to speak with a steady voice. "There were some problems. He tried to attack me once and we had to keep him handcuffed. We all tried to help him reconstruct his memories and he had a lot of questions about the past, but most of the time he was calm and seemed normal enough."

I have to stop talking because I'm worrying about him again and I feel a stabbing pain in my chest. I rub my hand over it and Prim takes hold of my other hand.

I suddenly remember what I was on my way to do before I found Prim. When I saw her, thoughts of Snow flew out of my mind. But now there is no hiding from the fact that neither she nor Peeta will be safe until he's dead and this is all over.

"Prim," I say with resolve, "I'm going to have to leave soon and I want you to promise me you'll stay here. I have to find Snow."

Prim nods, looking unsurprised.

"I want you to be safe," I say.

"I'll stay," Prim assures me. Then she adds, "I want you to be safe, too."

I lean in to kiss her forehead, then stand up and make my way over to the high window again. I look out but can see nothing that is of any use to me. There are some people walking through the streets, and I can't see the President's mansion from this angle. With a frustrated sigh, I return to the floor to sit with Prim. I guess I'm not ready to leave her just yet.

After a couple of minutes we hear three soft knocks on the door. I glance at Prim, who looks as perplexed as I feel. The idea of someone else wanting to take shelter in this building is not that strange, but I doubt anyone would knock if they didn't somehow know we were in here.

I stand up and aim an arrow at the door, just in case, then move so that I'm directly in front of Prim.

"Come in," I say.

The door slowly swings open, and Peeta is standing there.

* * *

**A/N:** In case it was at all unclear, Katniss' outburst in chapter 7 lead to Beetee and Gale getting rid of the plans for their double exploding bomb, so Prim lives. (I don't want Katniss to be as despondent and grief-stricken in this AU as she was in canon, so she'll be able to focus more on Peeta, and I thought this change was feasible.)


	10. Chapter 10

Seeing that I'm poised to shoot at him, Peeta raises both hands in the air. He eyes me carefully, then looks down and must be able to see Prim on the floor behind me.

I'm so surprised to see him that it takes me a few seconds to react, to lower my weapon. I set it on the floor and look Peeta over. He seems unharmed.

"Are you both all right?" he asks, dropping his arms.

I nod and Prim steps out from behind me so we're standing side by side. "Are you all right?" she asks. I glance at her for a moment and see that she's smiling kindly at Peeta.

"Yeah," he says with a nod.

"How'd you know we were here?" I ask, tentatively moving toward him.

"I saw you," Peeta says to me, "in the City Circle, and then I watched you both come in here."

When I'm a foot or so away from him, I halt. We hugged goodbye when we left Tigris' shop, but I still feel like I need permission to touch him again.

I'm glad when he holds his arms out for me. Even though I don't want to overwhelm him, I can't resist throwing myself at him and squeezing tightly around his waist. After a few moments, I pull back enough to see his face, which I stare up at with wide eyes.

"I didn't let you out of my sight after we split up," Peeta says softly. His arms tighten around me as he whispers, "I don't want to let you go again."

I don't want to let him go again, either. Surely there has to be some limit to the number of times we can say goodbye, survive dangerous situations, and then find each other again. Maybe this is our last chance.

I smile slightly and lean in once more, nestling my forehead against his neck. I can't believe how good I suddenly feel. Of course I'm still terribly upset about the deaths of the Star Squad and all the other horrors I've seen, but being here with Prim and Peeta…I can't help feeling grateful. I know things could be worse.

"You're bleeding," Prim says suddenly. I pull back from Peeta, glance at Prim, and follow her gaze until I see blood dripping out of the sleeve of Peeta's coat.

"Oh," he says, looking down. "I forgot…it's just a scrape."

"What happened?" I ask, holding up his wrist. I peel the sleeve back and see an angry gash.

"The crowd was really heavy and I ended up next to this fence -"

"We have to clean it right away," Prim insists. She approaches us and takes a look at Peeta's forearm. "The fence wasn't rusty, was it?" she asks with concern.

"Not that I noticed," Peeta answers.

Prim takes hold of Peeta's unwounded arm, leading him out of the room. I step into the hall and watch them reach the bathroom, where Prim turns on the faucet.

I know I can't help, so I return to the storage room and slump against the wall near the door.

The bit of determination I'd felt when I was planning to leave the building seems to have faded away. I don't want to go. I want to stay here with Peeta and Prim, so that I can help him recover more and make her feel safe. But the only way either one of them will be truly safe is if I get rid of Snow. I tell myself that they can help each other, that it's good they're here together. They don't really need me…

A rattling sound startles me and I look up to find that the window is shaking in its frame. In fact, the whole building seems to be shaking. I push myself away from the wall, intent on joining Prim and Peeta, but the sound of a loud explosion makes me stop. The building shakes so aggressively that I feel like I shouldn't move. Seconds drag by like this, and then only a slight rumbling sound remains.

I rush out of the room and to the bathroom doorway, reaching it just in time to see Prim tie a washcloth around Peeta's wounded arm. When they notice my presence, Prim says, "What do you think that was?"

"It sounded like an explosion," I say with a small shrug. "Are you both okay?"

Prim says yes and Peeta nods. Then, together, we return to the storage room. I stand on my toes to look out the window, but the view doesn't appear to have changed any. Peeta steps up to the window beside me. "See anything?" I ask.

"No," he says. I feel Peeta's eyes on me, and I turn to face him. He looks exhausted and sad as he stares down at me. Then his eyes squeeze shut for a moment before he says, "We should look out front." He's halfway to the door by the time I'm able to react. I hurry after him, following him down the stairs. We look out the window through which we entered the building, and what we see makes me gasp.

The street is completely gone; it's been replaced by a huge, seemingly bottomless opening in the ground. I go to the door and pull it open to get a better look. Peeta stands beside me and together we observe the damage. This building seems to be right on the edge of a cliff. I could take a few steps out the door, but wouldn't dare to. The ground is disturbed and looks like it could break off at any moment. This door is no longer an exit for us, and I don't think there are any others.

I step back from the door and Peeta closes it. I briefly take another look around down here, but my only new discovery is a small empty closet. We're stuck in this building.

Peeta moves to go back upstairs, but I catch his wrist and stop him. When he turns to me, I say, "Why did you keep following me after we left Tigris' shop?"

Peeta slides his wrist away in order to clasp my hand. "You know why," he says.

He's right, I do know. But I'd hoped to make him say it. I do my best to smile at him, then lead the way upstairs.

"Was there anything to see?" Prim asks when Peeta and I re-enter the storage room. He drops my hand and closes the door behind us.

"The street and sidewalk outside are gone. There's no way out of here," I say. To myself I add, _It's a good thing we all know how to be hungry_.

Prim tries to hide it, but I can tell she's relieved. "So, you have to stay here."

I nod my head. I can't leave now, can't try to find Snow.

"If we're all going to stay here," Peeta says, "I think I should wear these." He pulls out the handcuffs, which he'd stuck into his pocket after I unlocked them when we said goodbye at Tigris'.

I frown, but I pull out the key, to show him I've kept it. Peeta nods, fastening one side of the handcuffs to his right wrist. Then, rather doing the same to his other wrist, he walks toward the wall behind Prim and takes a seat on the floor. He lowers the open side of his handcuffs down behind an exposed pipe and then asks me to help him.

I go over to him and say softly, "Is this really necessary?"

"I don't want to take any chances," he replies, just as quietly.

In a way, I'm glad to hear this. It sounds like something the old Peeta would say. I'm reminded of the night before the Quell, when he refused to take the risk of impregnating me. Peeta doesn't take chances with my well-being.

And I know he's right. Even though he hasn't tried to harm me since shortly after he joined the Star Squad, it's not worth the risk. Especially with Prim here.

I snap the second side of the handcuffs over his left wrist, then sit on the floor beside him. "Tell me if you get upset," I say, and he nods acquiescence.

I look over at Prim, who's still standing several feet away, biting her lip.

I wave for her to come sit with us, but she hesitates. "I can…go downstairs for a while if you want to be alone, or -"

She's cut off by another loud booming sound coming from outside. I jump up to check the window again, but there's still nothing to see in this direction. I announce this to Peeta and Prim, then walk over to Prim and wrap my arm around her shoulders. "Don't be silly," I say, leading her over to Peeta. I return to my seat beside him and Prim sits across from us.

After a brief period of silence, Peeta begins asking Prim questions about the healing she does. He gets her talking about District Twelve, the people she helped there, and the kinds of medicines she used. She reminds him of a few of the healing herbs in the plant book and he says he remembers drawing a couple of them. I listen and occasionally join in on the conversation, supplying information that Prim isn't privy to, in order to help Peeta remember.

We spend most of the day like this. We talk about school and life in Twelve, and some of the things we did in Thirteen. Periodically, I go downstairs to see if anything out front changes, but it doesn't. I also look around downstairs for some food and manage to find an unopened box of crackers that fell down into a small, cobwebby space between a shelving unit and a wall. We eat a few around dinner time.

It's frustrating sitting around and doing nothing, but I don't have a choice, so I try to enjoy this little break, and enjoy being with Prim again. I've missed her since I left Thirteen. Occasionally, we hear more loud noises, but none are as bad as those first couple.

Night falls and the room darkens. The only light comes in through that big, high window.

When we feel tired enough to sleep, Prim and I lay down near the wall on the opposite side of the room from where Peeta is handcuffed. She turns her back to me, facing the wall, and I drape my arm over her waist. I'm surprised at how soon she's able to fall asleep. Once I'm certain she's out, I gently pull away and stand up, still feeling restless. I'm exhausted and my eyes are burning but somehow I can't manage to keep them closed. I look out the window again.

"Anything to see?" Peeta whispers. I'm startled; I guess I assumed he, too, would be asleep by now.

"No," I whisper back. I stand by the window for a few seconds, unsure of what to do.

"I'm here, if you want to talk," he says softly, seeming to sense how I'm feeling.

"I do," I say, and make my way over to him. I take a seat near him, leaning on the wall next to the one he's cuffed to, so that our feet nearly touch.

"I saw what happened to Gale," Peeta says. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks," I say.

Peeta's foot lightly touches mine, and I know it would be his hand holding mine if he weren't chained up.

"And thanks for talking to Prim so much about home," I say. "I'm glad you got her thinking about something other than what's going on out there."

"I like talking to her," he says simply, "she's nice." After a moments he adds, "I've never had a little sibling…or a sister."

"Well, you do now," I blurt out. For a moment, I feel nervous about what I've implied, but I can't bring myself to regret it. Peeta's whole family is dead, but I still have Prim, and as far as I know my mother is alive, too. He doesn't have anyone. I want my family to be his family. _I_ want to be his family.

We're both silent for a while. Eventually I say, "Do you want to talk about home?"

His slouched form shrugs. "Sure."

Even in the dark, I can see that he feels worse than I do. I'm exhausted and upset about everything that's happened since we left Thirteen, and he must be, too. But he also has another kind of torment to contend with.

"Oh, Peeta," I say shakily, overwhelmed with sympathy for him.

He sits up straighter and asks, "What is it?"

"I -" I don't know what to say.

"Come here," he whispers.

Without hesitation, I lean against him, wrapping my arms around him and tucking my head against his neck. His arms can't encircle me, but he rests his cheek against my hair and that feels nice.

"I'm sorry," I say, "I'm so sorry I left you in the Quell. I never should have gone off with the wire. I should have insisted Finnick go with Johanna. He could have moved even faster than me. I mean, I know he might have been louder and would have been easier to see, but -"

"Shh," Peeta says, managing to stroke my hair with his cheek. "It's over."

"It's not," I insist, "you're still struggling so much. They - they did terrible things."

"I'll be all right," he says, trying to console me.

I bite my lip and blink back tears. "I'm un-cuffing you," I say.

He doesn't protest. I reach in my pocket and pull out the key, then feel around. It takes a frustratingly long time for me to unlock the handcuffs in the dark, but I manage to get them off of him and then his arms encircle me. It feels so good, so unbelievably good, that I feel like even if he does regress and kill me, it will be worth it to have had these moments of relief. Without even thinking about it, I softly say his name and place a kiss on his warm neck. He starts a little, but then I feel his lips in my hair.

I pull back to see his face. It looks like his eyes are watering, but it's hard to be sure in this poor lighting. "Are you crying?" I whisper.

Peeta blinks twice, then shuts his eyes for a moment. When he opens them, he says, "No, I'm just really tired. My eyes are kind of burning."

So are mine. But Peeta must be even more sleep deprived than I am, if his eyes have started to water over it. "Am I keeping you awake?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "It's the hijacking. Something about the bad memories -"

"False memories," I interject.

Peeta nods. "When they surface, it does something to my mind and gives me this weird rush of energy. After that happens, it's hard to sleep. And since they come up a lot…" he lets his voice trail off.

"Did you have this problem in Thirteen?"

"Yeah, and they would give me pills or injections to put me to sleep. But ever since I left, it's just been getting worse. The insomnia."

I'm furious. I can't stand seeing him suffer like this. Sleep deprivation is torture, and he's been tortured enough. Were I to run into Coin right now, in my current state of exasperated exhaustion, I don't think I would have any problem strangling her with my bare hands. How dare she send someone in Peeta's condition out to fight in a war? Never mind trying to kill me, this is cruel to him. And for no reason. He's never done anything to her. And, in this condition, he's of no use as a soldier.

I wish I had sleeping pills to give him, or that we were near a forest so I could gather some herbs. I can think of a couple offhand that were featured in the plant book as sleep remedies. But I can't even leave this building and there are no forests for miles.

A thought surfaces in in my mind. I remember the night before the Quell, when Peeta and I first laid down to sleep. I wasn't tired at all. But then, mere minutes later, after he touched me and made me feel so good, I felt calm and sleepy.

Perhaps there _is_ something I can do, to help him relax and forget.

I lean in and kiss him on the mouth, knotting both hands in his hair and gently tugging it so his head is tipped back. I try to make my intentions clear in the way I kiss him. After a few seconds of this intensity, I pull back, leaving him breathless. I whisper in his ear, "Come to the bathroom with me."

I think I see a flicker of doubt in his face, and for a moment I'm worried he'll tell me once again that he's not ready. But then the doubt is gone and Peeta nods quickly. I stand up off his lap and lead him out of the room. I've never heard him walk so quietly before; I bet he's trying to be considerate of Prim, who's still asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

When I first looked around in here, I remember thinking it was strange that the bathroom above a shop would actually have a shower and bath, but I suppose there could be any number of reasons. Perhaps this upper level was once used as a living space? Or maybe the owner would spend the night sometimes, in order to receive an early delivery, and wanted to be able to shower in the morning?

Whatever the reason, I'm glad it's here. The shower curtain rod is the perfect thing to chain Peeta's wrists to. He's insisted on being restrained again, just in case. Once I've locked the door behind us, Peeta gives me the handcuffs and holds his wrists up on each side of the bar so I can fasten them together.

When they're secure I ask, "Are you comfortable enough?"

"I'm fine," Peeta says. He doesn't smile, but I can tell he's being playful as he asks, "What now?"

One side of my mouth raises in a little smirk and I reach out, sliding my hands up his shirt so I can run them over his stomach and chest, then around and up his back. He closes his eyes and leans his head against the wall behind him. "I wish I was touching you, too," he says softly.

My smile grows and I pull my hands out from under his shirt in order to cup his jaw, standing on tiptoe to kiss him. I suck lightly on his bottom lip, then kiss each corner of his mouth teasingly. When he leans his head forward, seeking more attention, I give in and kiss him for real, wrapping both arms around his neck.

I can feel him responding already so I lift a leg up, resting my bent knee against the wall, and I grind myself against him, eliciting a muffled groan.

I break our kiss to ask, "Are you okay?"

Peeta nods quickly. His eyes are wide and dazed. "I am. I can't believe how…okay I feel." Then he smiles, just a little. And _I_ can't believe how relieved I am to see it.

I shower his face with kisses, eventually working my way to his mouth again. This time, while our lips and tongues move together, I unbutton and unzip his pants. He makes no move to stop me, just keeps kissing me.

I push his pants and undershorts down as far as I can without breaking our kiss, then wrap one hand around his erection. I stroke him the way he showed me he likes it and his breathing hastens as he gets even harder in my hand.

When I pull back, he stares at me with wide eyes. "Pretend I'm hugging you," he whispers.

I give him a quick kiss on the cheek before I sit down on the edge of the tub. Leaning forward, I glance up, making sure he's still okay. He looks surprised but anticipatory, so I continue.

I lick my lips and take as much of him as I can into my mouth, causing him to jolt a little. I suck lightly at first, and move my head back and forth. Peeta lets out a strangled moan that I know would be louder if we had more privacy.

After having felt useless all day, I'm glad to be doing something to make him feel good. I love the little sounds he's making and knowing he's thrusting against me because he likes this.

I pull my head back to swirl my tongue around his tip. His breathing gets faster as I squeeze him tightly with one hand, stroking up and down, and continue to lick him.

"I'm getting - close," he manages to say.

I appreciate the warning, but nothing on earth could make me stop now. I'm surprised at how much I'm enjoying this. I start sucking again, so my tongue strokes quickly against him. Moments later he finishes, shuddering almost violently and letting out a groan that is muffled by his closed mouth.

I pull away from him, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Looking up at Peeta, I see that his head is leaned forward and he's slowly calming down.

When his eyes open, he looks down at me with another smile. "You can unlock me," he says softly.

I pull out the key and in seconds, his arms are free. They wrap tightly around me and he ducks his head to kiss and suck at my neck. He says my name with a sigh, then sits down on the floor, pulling me with him and cradling me in his lap.

I lean away, wanting to see his face, and I stroke one hand over his cheek.

"I can't believe…" he starts, then doesn't seem to know what to say. But he's looking at me like he loves me again.

I press my lips to his, hard, unable to stop myself. I can't _not_ be kissing him right now. I finally feel like I have him back and it's overwhelming.

After a while, his hand starts fidgeting with the button on my pants.

When I brought him in here, having him touch me was far from my mind. I wanted to make him feel better, and I felt too wound up to even think about whether or not he would be able to reciprocate. But now that he's trying to, I realize that making him feel good has had a pretty big effect on me. I do want to be touched. I _need_ this, to help balance out the bad things that have happened.

Breathless with anticipation, I end our kiss. Now that he's no longer distracted by my lips, Peeta looks down and undoes the button with ease. My zipper comes down next, and then he touches me through my underwear, lightly teasing.

He turns his head to whisper in my ear, "Do you want me to kiss you here?"

Oh God, yes. But I also want to stay close to him, like we are now. I decide he'll be able to make me feel good enough with his hand, so I whisper, "Yes, but…I want you to hold onto me more."

He nods, understanding, then turns me until my back is against his chest and I'm sitting between his legs. His left hand slides around my waist, under my shirt, so his arm is holding me securely. I lean my head back and we kiss again while he slides his right hand between my legs. I can tell by the way his fingers move that my skin is plenty slick.

He tentatively rubs around a little, then freezes and ends our kiss. When I open my eyes to look at him, I can tell he's nervous. He bites his lip, then says, "I don't remember what you like. I feel like I've never done this before."

I smile reassuringly and give him brief, soft kiss. "It's okay," I say, "you were the one who taught _me_ in the first place."

"You mean you'd never -"

I shake my head quickly, so he doesn't have to finish that thought. I try to suppress a blush as I slide my hand down to guide his. His fingers are bigger than mine, so I decide that just pushing the first one in feels good enough. I show him how to move his thumb above this. "In circles," I whisper, barely audible.

I pull my hand away, leaving him on his own, and shut my eyes to feel him better.

"Is this good?" he whispers, moving a little faster and curving the finger that's inside me.

"Mmm-hmm," I sigh, pressing my face into his neck. I slide my hand along his arm that's squeezing around my waist. Reaching his hand, I interlace our fingers.

I can't believe we're doing this again, can't believe I'm here with Peeta, safe for now, and that he's touching me in this way. I open my eyes for a second, to make sure this is real, and find that Peeta's are half-closed, staring down. He appears to be deeply focused.

I remind myself to keep quiet, and shut my eyes again. I move lightly against his hand, reveling in the pleasure he's giving me. It builds and builds until I feel like I'm losing my mind. My heart races and I bite my lip to hold back a scream as my body tenses and releases, contracting against his movements.

I collapse against him, trying to catch my breath, and enjoy the little aftershocks he's giving me by very gently continuing his ministrations. Eventually, over-sensitive, I squirm and he takes the hint, pulling his hand away.

I turn around to face him again, winding my arms around his waist. He leans in to kiss and nuzzle my neck.

"Remind me why we didn't do this in Thirteen," he murmurs.

"You weren't ready," I say, cupping his cheek and gently turning his face toward me.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"Don't be sorry," I insist, "it wasn't your fault." After a brief pause I add, "I'm just glad you're okay now."

He smiles and nods. "It keeps getting easier, as more time goes by. And being with you…keeps reminding me how much I loved you."

For a moment, I'm disheartened by the fact that he said _loved_ and not love, but I don't let myself dwell on it. He's made plenty of progress tonight.

"You mean the bad thoughts have been coming up less often?"

"Sort of," he says, considering the question. "When I first joined the Star Squad, it was really hard. Being around you so much made me think about the shiny memories even more than I did in Thirteen. But then I started to get used to it, and it felt like being with you was helping. And now, the shiny memories still surface, but they're weaker and less clear. Even when they do come up, they don't seem able to control me anymore."

I kiss his face over and over, thrilled to hear this. Then I smile at him and say, "Now, if we could just get out of this place…"

Peeta smiles a little. "Actually, I think I found something, while you were…sitting there." With his eyes, he gestures to the bathtub.

"What?" I ask.

He shifts me in his lap, so I'm facing the same way he is, and places a hand under my chin, tilting my face upward. I look up at the ceiling and see a square cut out of it. Quickly, I glance at Peeta. "You think that might be a way out?"

"Maybe," he says.

We move to stand under the square. Peeta reaches over our heads to push up on it and it easily lifts out of place. He stands on the edge of the tub and sticks his head through the hole. "There's an attic, with a window," he says.

"Can we fit through it?"

"I think so," he says, stepping down.

"But we don't know where it'll lead," I say, dismayed.

In lieu of answering, Peeta interlaces his fingers and holds them out, palms up. I step into his hands, bracing myself on his shoulders so he can lift me up, and I climb into the attic. Slowly, I walk across the floor until I reach the window. It seems to be set into a sunken area of wall. Feeling around, I find a handle. I twist it and push, then step out onto the roof. I'm facing the big fissure, so I go over to the other side of the roof. There are no people around anymore and the silence feels eerie. I wonder what happened today while we were stuck away from the fighting.

Looking down on this side of the building, I see a metal ladder that must have been installed as a safety precaution. A feeling of immense relief comes over me and I hurry back through the attic. Peeta helps me down into the bathroom and I tell him about it.

"We should wait until morning though, right?" he asks.

Morning? With a sigh, I realize that _would_ be the most practical thing to do. We should just go back to the storage room and try to sleep. It would be pointless to wake Prim up now.

"Yeah, we'll leave tomorrow," I say.

Peeta smiles a little, pulling me in for another hug. I wrap my arms tightly around him, loving this feeling, but also wondering what's going to happen when we leave this place.


	12. Chapter 12

I wake up with my head on Peeta's arm. When we returned to the storage room, he chained one of his wrists to the pipe, but left his other arm free to wrap around me. Now I'm using it as a pillow. A dull gray light floods in through the window. I can tell that the sky outside is covered by a layer of wintry clouds.

I'm still tired, but know I'm done sleeping. I turn to look at Peeta and find that he's already awake. Neither of us have a smile for each other, and I'm reminded of when we woke up together the morning before the Quell. It was nice last night, forgetting for a while, but now in the harsh light of day, we can no longer pretend things are okay.

I think again of the plan I formed last night while I was waiting to fall asleep. When we leave the building, hopefully we'll be able to find some other safe place for Prim to go. I'd like to leave her here, with Peeta, but he's already insisted that he's coming with me, wherever I go, when we get out of here. Perhaps once we've left, I can find a way to ditch him and Prim (somewhere safe) and then go look for Snow, like I intended to do before we became trapped here.

I unlock Peeta from the wall, and wake Prim up. The three of us take turns washing up in the bathroom. After this, Peeta helps first Prim and then me up into the attic. He manages to climb up himself then, and I'm first to step out onto the roof.

#

It seems we've missed a lot. We discover that Snow has been taken prisoner and his mansion is now being used by the rebellion. Peeta and I are given rooms to stay in, and Prim works side by side with my mother, tending to the wounded.

Peeta and I both begin seeing Dr. Aurelius. I honestly don't feel like talking to anyone about what's happened, but the decision that I ought to become his patient was made for me. It was decided that, after all I've been through, of _course _I need therapy. However, the doctor has a habit of falling asleep when we're supposed to be having a session (which suits me just fine). I hope he's more useful to Peeta.

I'm not sure what to think when we're called to a meeting with the other victors and Coin. Fortunately, when Coin tells us that they're thinking of having another Hunger Games, with Captiol children, I'm quickly able to set my face into that expressionless mask I've gotten so good at. She then says that the decision is up to us; we're going to vote.

Even after the other shifty things she's done, I can't help being shocked by this proposal. I know she's lived in Thirteen her whole life and has not been personally affected by the Games, but any decent person would know they're wrong. It doesn't matter that it would be children from the Capitol this time, it's still horribly cruel. I'm livid.

My mind works quickly, weighing my options, deciding what I ought to do. It's Snow's fault that the 74th Hunger Games took place, and that was the year Prim and Peeta could have died if not for me. He's put the people I love most in terrible danger and should be punished. But he's already been taken out of power; he's no longer a threat.

Coin has also put Prim and Peeta in danger. Prim was too young to be sent to the front lines and I've asked around and found out that she is the only thirteen year-old who was. Coin must have done it on purpose, because she hates me. She also put Peeta in danger. His mental healthy was shaky at best and she sent him out to fight in a war. He should have stayed in Thirteen, like Johanna was allowed to. And now, on top of it all, Coin wants to hold another Hunger Games. It doesn't matter that she's letting us vote, she never would have brought the matter up if she wasn't in favor of the idea. She's just as dangerous as Snow but, unlike him, she's going to continue to be dangerous. She is our new leader. Unless…

I realize that while I've been thinking things through, Johanna and Enobaria have already voted yes, while Peeta, Annie and Beetee have voted no. Now everyone is looking at me. I steal a glance at Coin. If I vote no, she'll probably see it as another instance of me being less-than-supportive of her. She may suspect what I've just realized I have to do. She may be more careful to stay away from me. I may not be able to shoot her, instead of Snow, when we go to the City Circle.

"I vote yes," I announce. I hate saying the words, but I feel certain that the Games will be cancelled after I've killed her. In hopes of being convincing, I add, "It's only fair."

"Katniss," Peeta says, dropping my hand. I glance over at him and am shocked at the way he's looking at me. He almost looks the way he did the first time I saw him in Thirteen, right before he choked me. I open my mouth, but don't know what to say to him.

Haymitch votes that he's with me, and for a moment I feel relieved that he's on my side and that he, at least, must understand why I've done this. Then I hear glass cracking. Looking down, I see that Peeta's crushed his water glass in his hand. "How could you?" he says to me, then glances at Haymitch.

Suddenly, he brings his hands (one of which is bleeding alarmingly) up to his head and fists them over his ears.

"Peeta," I say, reaching up to touch his arm. But he yanks it away.

"Don't touch me!" he shouts. "I knew it! I know what you are!"

Does he think I'm a mutt again? Tears spring to my eyes. "Peeta, no!"

But guards are already hauling him away, hopefully for medical treatment.

I'm too stunned to move. His voice is echoing in my head: _"How could you?"_

I didn't even think about how my vote would sound to Peeta. He's only just started caring for me again and now I've ruined it. I've undone weeks of progress with one seemingly cruel act. I want to go after him, to make him understand, but I decide he's better off not knowing. After I've killed Coin, he may be questioned about it and if he can honestly say he had no idea what I was planning, he couldn't be punished as an accomplice.

A sinking feeling materializes as I realize another reason why I shouldn't tell him. If I'm executed for killing Coin, Peeta will be better off believing my vote was a sincere one, so he won't miss me so much. Although, maybe after I've killed her, he'll figure out anyway that I only voted yes in order to maintain her tenuous trust? I don't know.

Later on, after more thought, I realize that I probably _will_ be executed for killing Coin. But there's no going back now. I made an impulsive decision and now I have to live with it. I have to prevent another Hunger Games from occurring, and get rid of its instigator.

Besides, I expected to die in the first Games. Then in the Quell, then again on the mission to kill Snow. I've gotten used to the idea by now.

I barely sleep, and in the morning Gale brings me the bow and a single arrow. I know it's all I need, know I won't miss my target, but I still wish I could have a spare. In order to put my mind at ease, I feel like I need to shoot both of them.

"What are you going to do afterwards?" Gale asks.

I shrug. I can't tell him that there will be no afterwards for me. And even if I did plan to survive and be free after the shooting, I don't know where I would go. Our home is destroyed.

"You?" I ask.

"I don't know," Gale says, "maybe go to District Two."

I nod. We stare at each other for a few seconds and I can tell he wants to say more.

"But…you'll be with him, right? Wherever you go?"

I smirk and let my gaze drop to the floor. If only it were that simple…

"What?" Gale asks. "You don't want to tell me?"

"It's not that," I say. I can't tell him what I'm planning, for the same reason I couldn't tell Peeta. But I suppose I have to say something, in case I do survive this. I have no right to encourage him in any way, because if I do stay alive, I'll only want a life with Peeta.

"I really don't know where we'll go," I say eventually.

"You and Peeta," he says. It's not a question.

I nod, looking up at Gale again. "And Prim, and my mother. I want to be near them, of course."

Gale looks away from me, obviously hurt, but trying to hide it. Then he sighs, looking resigned. "What would have happened if I'd told you how I felt before the Games?"

I don't know. I feel confident that I would not have began a relationship with him, as I'd never wanted that, even though I did love Gale. But perhaps I would have been less likely to let myself care for Peeta. I suppose Peeta and I would have still both won the Games, even if I had known how Gale felt, because at the time I really believed the whole Star-Crossed Lovers thing was an act. At least, I think that's what I believed…

"It wouldn't change anything," I say with conviction. Quickly realizing I may have sounded too hurtful, I decide to say more, in hopes of explaining. "I wouldn't have even won the Games without Peeta's help -"

"That doesn't mean you owe him anything."

"That's not what I meant," I say. "Neither of us could have won without the other. And you know I've never wanted…to get married, but after we went through that together…I mean, I still didn't want to be with him in that way, but…" I realize I've started to ramble, and that it seems ridiculous to be talking about something so trivial when I'm probably going to die soon.

But, I remind myself, it isn't trivial to Gale. And after everything we've meant to each other, I feel like I owe him some kind of explanation. I collect my thoughts and continue. "I've never wanted to be with anyone. I've never wanted to love anyone but Prim. But with Peeta…I just can't help it. He's the exception." Am I making sense?

"So it's him or no one?"

I nod. There was a time when I wondered what it might be like to be with Gale, but I haven't wanted to be anything more than his friend in a long time.

"Because of everything you've been through together?" Gale asks.

"Yes," I say, even though it's not the whole truth. Of course I love Peeta because he's been with me through so much and because I feel like he's the only person who really understands me, but that's not all there is to it. I just love the way he makes me feel…or at least, the way he used to make me feel before the hijacking. He made me feel like, no matter how bad things got, it would be okay. But Gale doesn't need to hear all of that; it wouldn't benefit him.

#

When I reach the City Circle, I position my bow and arrow, aiming them at Snow. For a moment, I'm tempted to shoot him. Then I could help Peeta get better again, and see Prim again. But who knows what else Coin may do? I don't want the people I love to have to live in a place where someone like her is the leader.

And I have to stop those Games from happening. I've already made my decision. _I have to, I have to, I have to_…

At the last second, I adjust my aim, then let the arrow fly at Coin. She falls to the ground, dead. I tell my bow goodnight and set it on the ground, then am immediately pulled into an embrace. I quickly realize it's Peeta. "I'm sorry," he says quickly, "I understand why you voted yes."

"_I'm_ sorry," I say, hoping he knows what I mean. That I'm sorry he's going to lose me.

I'm literally yanked away from Peeta by some guards, but he manages to rip the nightlock pill off my forearm, lest I feel any temptation to take it. It had occurred to me, but ultimately I couldn't bring myself to do it. As long as Prim and Peeta are in the world, I would like to be here, too…_if_ they'll let me live, after what I've just done.

The weeks I spend in my room in the training center are exasperating. I wish someone would just tell me what's going on. Even if the news is bad, I want to hear it.

When I'm let out, Haymitch tells me I've been acquitted. He says that, because of all the trauma I've endured, I was deemed mentally unstable. The fact that Coin wanted to hold another Hunger Games was brought up at my trial, as a defense. And Peeta spoke on my behalf, telling of all the horrors we saw while we were with the Star Squad. In the end it was determined that a poor crazy girl like me could not be held responsible for going to any length in order to prevent another pro-Hunger Games leader from taking over the country.

Haymitch also informs me that I'm being forced to return to District Twelve, and am to be confined there until further notice. When I can finally get a word in, I ask, "Where's my family?"

"Waiting at the hovercraft," Haymitch says.

"And Peeta?"

"I think he's already on board."

"He's better, then?"

"Much," Haymitch says with a nod. "You'll have to ask him the details, but that doctor the two of you were given seems to have had some good ideas."

I can't believe any of this. The war is over, Peeta and my family are alive, I'm going home to Twelve. "Who's going to be our new leader, then?" I ask.

"Paylor was elected president while you were put away."

This is good news. Of course I only met her the one time, but she seemed very competent and level-headed. It's better if someone from one of the aboveground Districts is our new leader; someone who really knows how terrifying it was to live in a world where the Hunger Games were a threat. And she's _got_ to be better than Coin.

#

We're on the hovercraft now. On the way home. I'm sitting on Peeta's lap and our arms are wrapped tightly around each other. Haymitch is slumped nearby, drinking. My mother and Prim are staying in the Capitol for now, as that is where the need for healers is greatest.

It hurt to say goodbye to them, especially Prim, but I can understand why she doesn't want to go back to Twelve.

"I'll come if you want me to, Katniss," she said, outside the hovercraft.

"You don't want to?" I asked, trying not to sound hurt.

Prim shook her head. "I'm sorry, but…I'd really rather not go back there. The night the bombs hit…" she paused and shivered. "It was awful. I saw some terrible things. I don't want to live there again."

"I understand," I said, trying to. It never occurred to me that there would be a day (anytime soon, at least) when I wouldn't live with Prim, when we would be separated by a great distance.

"But I love you," she said, "and if you want me to come with you now, and stay for a while, I will."

I bit my lip. I didn't want to ask Prim to come to Twelve if it would make her miserable.

"There's nothing there anymore," Prim added. "I don't know what I would do. After everything I've seen since I left Thirteen, I'd rather just be someplace where I can keep busy. I don't want to have too much time to think."

Of course. Seeing what happened to those children just before I found Prim would traumatize anyone. I could understand why she wouldn't want to go back to Twelve, when there was good she could do elsewhere.

She stepped forward, to hug me tightly. "I'm so glad to see you again. I want us to stay together, but…"

"I want that, too," I said.

Prim pulled away to look up at me.

"But I understand why you want to stay here. If working is what will make you happiest right now, I'm not going to stand in your way."

Prim smiled slightly. "Thank you."

I smiled back. "You'll visit though, won't you?"

"As soon as you want," Prim said quickly. "I'll miss you. I can't wait to visit."

We hugged once more, tightly, and exchanged _I love you_s. My mother, of course, was going to stay on in the Capitol, too. She and I hugged goodbye, and then I headed toward the hovercraft. When I glanced back and they waved to me, I reminded myself to just be glad they're alive, and that they have each other. I tried not to begin missing them already.

But the truth was, I did want them both to come back to Twelve with me, at least for a little while. I know they would have if I'd asked, but that would have been selfish. Prim's happiness is more important to me than my own. If she wants to keep busy, and keep learning to be a doctor, I'm not going to prevent that. And they promised to visit soon.

When I boarded the hovercraft, I quickly spotted Peeta. He was sitting at a table, bent forward, and holding a pencil. I smiled as I realized that he must be drawing. I didn't want to disturb him, but Haymitch had no problem doing so, from his seat next to Peeta.

"Here she is," he announced.

Peeta's head snapped up and his eyes fixed on me. He gave me a smile that was equal parts loving and relieved. He quickly stood up, then rushed forward and enveloped me in his arms. "I've missed you so much," he said, between kisses. He placed a trail of them along my neck and jaw, then up to my cheek. He pulled back to look at me and ran a hand over my hair as his eyes darted around my face. "I wanted to visit you, but they wouldn't let me," he said.

"It's okay." I could feel myself smiling broadly at him. I wanted to kiss him, but didn't think I could bear to not be looking at him. I needed to see him, so I could make sure that it was all real. That he was better, that we were alive and finally safe, and going home together. That he loved me again and I loved him more than ever.

He lead me over to a large, comfy seat, where he sat down and pulled me into his lap. The kissing started soon after that, and when we broke apart to catch our breath, we both apologized again for what happened at the voting. There is more that needs to be said; I want to hear about the kind of treatment he's been getting, and how well it's worked. But for now we're just holding onto each other and trying to recover from it all. Trying to accept that this is real; that it's really over.


	13. Chapter 13

When I want to see Peeta's face again, I lift my head off his shoulder and lean away from him just a little. His blue eyes lock onto mine and narrow slightly as he smiles at me. He bites his lower lip for a second, then says, "Right now. Real or not real?"

"Real," I say quickly. But I know how he must feel. I'm having a hard time believing this moment is real, too. I never thought we'd be here.

Peeta's smile grows, seemingly due to hearing my answer. He runs his hands up and down my arms, then grazes his fingers over my clavicle. "Are you okay?" he asks. "I know it can't have been easy, being locked up like that."

I nod my head. "It was…frustrating, but I've been through worse."

His smile drops, then becomes rueful as he nods, understanding. He knows that being imprisoned is nothing compared to what we went through in the Games, or with the Star Squad.

I don't want to dwell on those things now, though. There will be plenty of time for nightmares when we get home. Now, I try to focus on Peeta and how fortunate I feel to still have him. "What about you?" I ask. "What have you…been up to?"

He takes a deep breath, then tells me. "I spent a lot more time watching footage of us in the Games…and the Quell. While I did, the doctors gave me a calming drug, like in Thirteen, but it seemed to work better in the Capitol. Maybe because it was a different kind of drug or because I'd already recovered some…I don't know." He pauses and bites the inside of his cheek, then continues, "They also did hypnosis, to bring all the shiny memories to the surface, then showed me specific clips to disprove them. And I'm taking meds that are supposed to help, too." He glances to his right and when I follow his gaze, I see two cardboard boxes sitting on the floor.

"Are those -"

"They're for us," Peeta explains. "One has food and some pills for each of us, and the other has some of your things from Thirteen."

"Oh," I say. I hope the pill bottle for me has a label specifying what exactly it will do. I'd really prefer not to medicate myself, but I suppose I'm willing. It depends.

"And we're supposed to talk to Dr. Aurelius on the phone at least once a week." Peeta sounds hesitant as he adds, "I told him he could reach both of us at your number."

"Good," I say, with the hope of reassuring him.

With a sweet smile, Peeta tucks a few stray hairs behind my ear. "You look like you haven't slept well."

I try to think of the last time I got a good night's sleep, but quickly give up. It's been too long; I can't remember. "I haven't…in a long time," I say.

"Nightmares?"

"I did have them while I was in the training center. But it wasn't just the nightmares. I was worried about whether or not I would ever see you and Prim again."

Peeta tilts his face up to kiss my forehead. "Are you okay with Prim staying behind?"

"Yeah," I say, surprised by the sincerity in my voice. "I'll miss her, but she'll be better off. And she promised to visit soon."

"Good," Peeta says, then he glances at the boxes again. "There are sleeping pills, if you want to take one. We could be home by the time you wake up."

It's sweet of him to be concerned about me. I'm sure he would rather I stay awake, so we can keep talking, but my comfort is more important to him.

The idea of being put out for several hours is appealing (as is the knowledge that even if I do wake up from a nightmare, Peeta is right here to comfort me). But I want to talk to him some more. Because of our time apart, and the hijacking, I feel like we need to get to know one another again. I want to be as close to him as we were before the Quell and even though I know that will take some time, I want to get started as soon as we can.

Unfortunately, my drooping eyelids seem to have other ideas. "No, I'll just rest a bit," I say.

Peeta smiles. "Okay."

We shift our positions and end up with Peeta sitting against the wall, and me curled up between his legs, so my head is resting on his chest. His arms are snug around me and I feel so relaxed, so warm and relieved. I close my eyes and let myself rest.

#

When I wake up, I'm disoriented. It takes a few moments for me to realize that I'm in my bedroom in the victor's village, the sky outside is dark, and Peeta is sleeping beside me. I must have fallen asleep on the hovercraft, and he carried me inside.

I turn to look at him, but can only make out his silhouette in the dark room. He's on his side, facing me, and his arm is draped over my stomach. I gently extricate myself from him, then climb out of the bed, careful not to disturb it too much. I go to the window and can see the sky just beginning to lighten in the distance.

I can't believe I slept so long, but I suppose after weeks and weeks of stress and un-restful sleep, I needed it. Vague memories of nightmares surface in my mind, but obviously none of them were bad enough to wake me up.

I get some clean clothes from my closet, then go to the nearest bathroom. I brush my teeth, and take a hot shower. Once I've dressed and towel-dried my hair, I peek back into my bedroom but unfortunately Peeta is still asleep, so I go downstairs. I want to wake him up, but can't bring myself to. I'm sure he needs his rest, just as I did.

I walk all around the house, to reacquaint myself with it, and try to get used to the idea that it's my home again. That I'm going to live here from now on. With Peeta, but without my mother and Prim.

Next to the couch, I see one of the boxes from the hovercraft. It's open and when I peer inside, I find my father's hunting jacket, the plant book, my bow and arrows, and some tapes, among other things. I hang the jacket up, put the plant book on a shelf in the living room, and set the bow and quiver of arrows in the closet next to the front door. Looking out the living room windows, I see the familiar sight of the front lawn, and nearby houses, enshrouded in darkness.

I make my way into the kitchen and find that the other, smaller, box is sitting on one of the kitchen chairs. It's mostly empty, save for three bottles of pills. I reach in and pull one out at random. It's pink glass with a black top and has a little note taped to it. I tear it off and read that these pills are to be taken once every two weeks and will prevent pregnancy.

My face heats up. Did Peeta ask for this prescription for me? Or did Dr. Aurelius simply assume I would need these? I read on and find that they take effect almost instantly after the first pill has been taken. I take one out and hold it in my hand, then fill a glass with water from the tap and swallow it. I don't know when Peeta and I will get around to…that, but I'm sure we will at some point, so I should be prepared. I wonder if Peeta would even be ready yet. On the hovercraft, he seemed like his old self…almost. I suppose his smiles were a tad different (not as lighthearted as they once were), but they came pretty easily. And, as far as I could tell, his personality was the way it used to be…or perhaps just a little more subdued.

A plate, covered by a plastic dome, catches my eye. It's sitting on the counter a few feet away from the sink. When I go over to it and lift the lid, I can't help smiling. There are three cheese buns sitting on the plate. Peeta must have made them last night. I wonder how late he stayed up.

I grab one, then take a peek in the fridge. It's not full, but there are several things inside that must have come from the Capitol. I guess Peeta unpacked them last night.

I eat my cheese bun sitting at the table, then grab another one and eat it. I feel tempted to have the third one, but don't trust my stomach. Instead I drink more water. When the glass is empty, I set it in the sink and re-cover the last cheese bun. I notice that the sky outside the kitchen window has lightened considerably.

In need of some fresh air, I put on my father's jacket and step out onto the front porch. The air is cold and feels so clean and refreshing. I sit on my porch swing and look around at the dark houses and trees. Again, I try to get used to the idea that things are okay now, and that this is my home. I'm sure the nightmares will return, but nothing else is going to hurt me ever again. I'm safe, Peeta's safe, Prim is safe.

When I start to feel cold, I go back inside and sit on the couch. I consider going for a hunt, but ultimately just don't have the energy, in spite of my long sleep. After a few minutes, I hear Peeta walking around on the second floor.

I walk to the stairs, with the intent of calling up to him. I don't know what I'd wanted to say, but it's a bit disappointing when I suddenly hear the sound of running water. He must have gotten in the shower.

I have the sudden impulse to rush up the stairs, strip off my clothes and join him. I can almost picture how it might go…I'd knock on the glass door of the shower and Peeta would slide it open. He'd be dripping with hot water and he'd smile at me as I stepped in. And then…

I shake my head, in hopes of clearing it. I don't think we're ready for that yet. I still don't even know if he trusts himself enough to be intimate with me without wearing handcuffs. And, as I realized in the hovercraft, we're not as close as we used to be. The hijacking, and our time apart physically, seems to have built a wall between us. What we did that night in the abandoned Capitol building was just an impulse. We were too exhausted to think much about what we were doing. Looking back on it, I feel callous for putting my mouth on him, and letting him touch me, so shortly after the deaths of our squad members, a couple of whom I really considered friends. And Prim was right in the next room…

Clearly, we weren't being very rational. This time, I want to do things right. I want to be close to him and love him and know him as well as I know myself. Then we can have sex; in a bed in a house that we share. Not because it's our last chance, or because we need to unwind, but because we love each other. That's how it's supposed to go…right?

I don't know. Maybe I'm thinking too much. Maybe something will happen tonight. If it feels right, that must mean it _is_ right…I think.

I sigh and return to the couch to sit down. Leaning forward, I rest my head in my hands. I can't help feeling foolish. There are more important things to think about. Like his recovery, or the friends we've lost. Obsessing over something like sex seems so trivial. But…all we have left is each other, so why not make the most this new life together?

I command myself to stop thinking so much, and take out the plant book. I leaf through it, starting in the middle and spending the most time staring at Peeta's drawings. I remember when he did them. We were sitting in this room.

Now I hear him on the stairs, so I snap the book shut and look over. There he is, stepping onto the landing. "Good morning," he says with a smile.

"Hi," I say, beaming back. He looks so perfect right now. His hair is still a bit wet and his clothes look crisp and clean. The look vaguely familiar; I suppose he brought them over from his house last night.

Peeta joins me on the couch and takes my hand. "I knew you were tired," he says, still smiling.

I nod. "Thanks for bringing me inside."

He chuckles. "Anytime you need me to carry you, I'm up for it."

_How about right now…to bed?_ Before I can say these words aloud, he's dropping my hand and standing up. "I'm gonna make breakfast. Are you hungry?"

"I had two cheese buns about a half hour ago. They were better than I remembered."

"I'm glad," Peeta says. He bites his lip and wrings his hands for a second, then says, "You want to keep me company while I make something for myself?"

"Of course," I say, nodding a little too emphatically.

Peeta half-smiles, then turns and walks away from me, toward the kitchen. I quickly stand up and follow him, then take a seat at the table to watch while he opens the fridge and starts taking things out.

I see him put a piece of bread in the toaster and pour oil into a pan. Minutes later, when the food is done, he asks, "Do you have salt and pepper?"

"Of course," I say, standing up. I walk over to the spice cupboard and get out two small shakers, then hand them to Peeta.

He takes them from me and seasons his breakfast. "We always kept them on the counter at my house. My parents' house, I mean."

"Oh," I say. "Well, my mother wanted the salt kept out of the way so we'd only use it sparingly and of course the pepper had to go with it." Why do I sound so uncomfortable?

Peeta nods to acknowledge what I've said, then takes a seat at the table. I pour myself a glass of orange juice from the fridge and sit across from him. He only takes a couple of minutes to eat, and I take even less time to drink my juice.

When he stands up to put his plate in the sink, I realize it was inconsiderate of me to get juice for myself and not offer him any. "Do you want some juice?"

"I can get it," he says. He pours himself a glass, drinks it quickly, then grabs mine and puts them in the sink. He turns around to face me and leans back on the counter. "What do you want to do today?"

Unwittingly, I eye him up and down. Then I catch myself and force my gaze to return to his face. Peeta grins and I feel my face get warm. He must know what I was thinking…

"I don't know," I say. I stand up and move to go back toward the living room, but Peeta takes a couple of quick steps and catches my wrist, stopping me. I turn my head to stare up at him and the look on his face makes my breath catch. He's looking at me like he loves me. I open my mouth to say - I don't know what, but before I can speak, he's pulling me in and hugging me. Somehow, the slight discomfort I'd been feeling evaporates.

I realize that there's no reason for things to be weird between us. We've been through a lot, but so what? He's still himself. He still loves me no matter what.

We hug tightly for a long time. I love the way his hands feel moving over my back, and the feel of his cheek against my hair. When he whispers my name, it makes me shiver.

But, for some reason, feeling good about having Peeta back enables me to start feeling bad about other things. I think of the Star Squad, and the deaths I still feel responsible for. I start to cry quietly, softly.

"Hey," Peeta says, voice laced with concern. He pulls back and cups my face in his hands. "What is it?"

I reach up to wipe at my eyes, and try to compose myself. "It's just…I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. It's my fault…so many things that happened are my fault. I keep thinking about the pods, and how horrible it must have been -"

"Katniss," Peeta interrupts me with a shake of his head. "You can't blame yourself for any of that."

How can he say I'm not responsible? The berries, the rebellion, the propos, lying to the Star Squad…_I_ did it all. "Then who is to blame?"

He opens his mouth, then hesitates and shuts it. I wonder if perhaps he was going to say "Snow," before he thought better of it. The answer to my question is certainly not that simple. Of course Snow is responsible for the Games taking place in recent years, but he did not instigate them seventy-five years ago. And _Coin_ was responsible for the children dying in the City Circle…

"A lot of people," he says eventually, echoing my thoughts. "But not you. People obviously wanted a rebellion. If they hadn't, what we did with the berries wouldn't have mattered to anyone."

"I killed people," I say, my voice hollow.

Peeta takes my hand and leads me over to the table. He sits in a chair and pulls me onto his lap so my legs are sideways over his. I turn to look him right in the face and he smiles slightly, stroking my hair.

"Katniss," he says. "I know you're a good person. You always did the best you could, and you never wanted to hurt anyone. The things you've been through…in the Games and during the war," he shakes his head. "I know nothing has ever been easy for you. But none of it is your fault and you can't punish yourself for it."

Something within me swells. There was a tiny voice inside me, trying to tell me all of what Peeta has just said, and I couldn't believe it. But now, hearing someone else say the words helps a lot. And it makes me happy because he's obviously incredibly recovered, or else he would think I _am _to blame for the war, what happened to him, all of it.

"Okay?" Peeta asks, looking intently into my eyes.

The corners of my mouth twitch slightly and I swallow. "Okay. I'll…try to get used to thinking like that." I lean in closer to him and rest my head on his shoulder.

"What do _you_ want to do today?" I ask softly.

Peeta squeezes me tighter, then speaks.


	14. Chapter 14

A walk into town to look at the spot where the bakery once stood, since it now belongs to Peeta and he's considering rebuilding and reopening it. A visit to Haymitch's house in the afternoon. Lunch outside, on my back porch. A walk over to Peeta's to pack up some of his things (clothes, mostly) and bring them to my house, which I keep having to remind myself is now _our_ house. Unpacking, then dinner.

Almost everything we've done today has been Peeta's idea. The only thing I came up with was moving him in with me, but I think that's when he had the most fun all day.

After our late dinner, we relocate to the living room and talk for a while.

I'm sitting beside Peeta, with my head on his shoulder and his cheek against my hair, when I say, "I've been thinking about going hunting tomorrow."

"Good," Peeta says, picking up my hand and stroking the back of it with his thumb. We're both silent for a few seconds before he speaks again. "Do you think…you might want to take me with you sometime? Not tomorrow, or even for the next few days. But eventually?"

I sit up to look over at him. "You'd want to come?"

"Sure," he says. "I know how much you like it out there."

I nod. "Hunting used to be my favorite thing to do. I'd like you to come. Tomorrow, even, unless you were thinking of baking in the morning."

Peeta shakes his head once. "Tomorrow's good." I lean in to hug him briefly, and when we release each other, he's smiling. "What's your favorite thing to do now?" he asks.

"Um…" I hadn't really meant to say that hunting only _used to be_ my favorite thing to do. And while I suppose it's true, I can't exactly say what I'm thinking now: _my new favorite thing is being with you…preferably sans clothing_, even though that seems to be the truth.

Peeta kisses my forehead and gives my hand a reassuring squeeze, then changes the subject. "Can I draw you?"

"If you want," I say, smiling in return.

He does a few sketches of me sitting in a couple different ways. Seeing them is a bit of a shock for me; I'd forgotten how talented he is. They look just like me, though I can't help thinking he's unintentionally embellished a little. "They're beautiful," I say, staring down at the drawings, which he's laid out on the coffee table.

"Because of you," Peeta says, stepping behind me. He wraps his arms around my waist and holds me tightly.

I lean my head back so it rests on his chest, closing my eyes.

"They'd be better if I'd had some daylight," he says.

I open my eyes to find him looking down at the sketches again, then I glance at the large, dark wood analog clock that sits on the mantel. It's well past eleven at night. I can't believe the day is over already. It's been so nice…and easy. The time has flown by.

Peeta looks down at me and asks, "Ready for bed?"

I realize my head is still resting against him and my eyes are half-closed. "Yeah," I say, leaning forward just slightly, until I'm standing up straight and on my own.

"I'll put these away," Peeta says with a glance toward his sketches and pencils, "then be right up."

I nod and go upstairs. I stop in the bathroom first and brush my teeth, then go to the bedroom, where I take off my pants and change into a small, comfortable tank top to sleep in. I feel kind of exposed, in just underwear and a shirt (which is pretty revealing without a bra underneath it), so I climb into bed and pull the covers up to my chin.

After a couple minutes, Peeta comes in, looking a little upset.

"Are you okay?" I ask, sitting up.

He forces a smile and nods. "I just…had a flashback. But I'm fine now."

"What do you mean by flashback?"

"It's hard to explain," Peeta says, walking over to the spare dresser. He opens a draw and takes out a pair of pants to sleep in, then turns back toward me. "It's kind of like when the shiny memories surface, only instead of seeing them, I just think about them. And just now, I almost felt like I was back in the Capitol, when they gave me the venom…and it hurt."

I realize I'm firmly biting my bottom lip, which is quivering. I release it before I can draw blood, and say, "You should have called me."

Peeta shrugs. "You wouldn't have been able to do anything. I mostly just have to put up with it, but I took one of my pills after it was over and that's helping."

I want to say that I'm sorry, but I'm not sure if Peeta wants to hear that. He may misunderstand and think what I'm saying is that I feel sorry _for_ him, which I know he doesn't want. Instead I say, "Well, if it happens again, if you think of anything I can do -"

"I'll let you know."

Peeta turns away from me, ending the discussion, and changes into the sleeping pants, then pulls open a different drawer than the one they came out of.

"You don't have to wear a shirt," I say.

He turns around, smiling playfully. "Watching me?"

I shrug as if to say, _Nothing I haven't seen before_. I'm glad he's recovered from the flashback enough to tease me.

He shuts the drawer, then joins me in bed, where we lay facing each other for a few moments. If anything is going to happen, now would be the time for him to initiate it.

But, unsurprisingly, he doesn't. He just leans forward and places two quick, soft kisses on my lips, then moves away from me and turns off the bedside lamp, enshrouding the room in darkness. It was a mostly sunny day, but in the late afternoon a thick layer of clouds came in, and they must still be out there, blocking out any moonlight.

We arrange ourselves the way we used to sleep when we were together: my head on his chest, his arms around me. I feel warm and content. We had such a nice day today and I already feel much closer to him again. I close my eyes and can already feel myself drifting off.

#

Peeta jolts beneath me, waking me up. I don't know how long we've been sleeping, but it can't have been more than a couple hours. The room is completely dark and I still feel tired.

He cries out; not loudly or long, but in a way that lets me know he's having a very upsetting nightmare. On the train, he told me that he would usually just wake up from nightmares, paralyzed with fear. The fact that he's reacting differently to this one must mean it's worse, and maybe even has something to do with what happened to him in the Capitol.

"Peeta," I say softly, lifting my head to try, futilely, to look at him. He doesn't respond, just shivers and seems to be struggling to breathe. I slide my hands up, feeling my way to his face, which I cup. "Peeta!"

He jolts again, this time gasping as he wakes up. "K-Katniss?" he asks, running his hands up my arms until they wrap around my shoulders.

"I'm here," I say. "It's okay, it was just a nightmare."

"Yeah, a nightmare," he says, trying to catch his breath. "It - you were - I mean -"

"It's okay," I say again. I lean down to kiss his cheek, but neither of us can see anything and his head was turned, I guess, so I end up kissing his lips.

I'm surprised at his fervent reaction to this little, soft kiss. Simultaneously, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me against him, tilts his head further to the side, and pushes his tongue into my lips, letting out a soft hum.

Reflexively, I open my mouth enough to allow him entrance. My arms wrap around his neck as he turns us over, so he's on top of me. Suddenly his hands are everywhere. They start in my hair and move to gently caress my face, before one slides down and squeezes my waist.

Then he abruptly pulls back, ending our kiss. "You're safe," he whispers, still sounding frantic.

"Yes," I say. "I'm fine." I feel him lean in again, this time to touch his forehead to mine. "Do you want to tell me about it?" I ask.

"No," he says with urgency, "I just - I just need you."

Then we're kissing again and his hand is sliding up my shirt. He reaches my breast and squeezes it firmly, but not hard enough to hurt me. After a moment, his thumb begins circling in a way that creates a dull ache inside me. After he's made my skin pebble up, his hand slides over to touch my other breast, while he continues taking my breath away with his kiss.

I twist my mouth away from his. I feel like there's something that needs to be said, though I'm not quite sure what it is. "Peeta -"

But he's taken this opportunity to stick his head up my shirt and swirl his tongue around my nipple. All I can do is groan and clutch his head against me. He kisses his way to the other side and does the same, until I'm desperately pushing my hips up against him, seeking attention elsewhere.

Then his mouth is gone and he's tugging at my shirt. I sit up so he'll be able to pull it off of me, then I reach for his pants. His hands bat mine out of the way and I hear fabric swishing and feel the bed shift as he frees himself from his clothing.

I reach out blindly and my hand lands on his waist, but from there it's easy to slide down and find what I'd wanted to grab hold of. He's rock hard already and seems to throb in my hand. I begin to stroke him up and down and I relish the sound of his groan.

After only a few moments he whispers, "Stop."

I quickly release him, pulling my hand back, afraid I've done something wrong. But then I feel his hand on my thigh, sliding up quickly to find the top of my underwear. I realize he only stopped me because he wants more. He wants something better than my hand, and maybe he's afraid he won't last because it's been so long, _too_ long since we were together like this.

As I lean back on my hands and lift my hips, so he'll be able to pull my underwear off, I fleetingly wonder if this is a good idea, but it only takes an instant for me to decide that it is. It _must_ be.

The fabric passes over my feet and now I know we're both completely naked. Peeta's hand finds its way between my legs. He pushes a finger about halfway inside me, then pulls it out and rubs me in small circles until I'm whimpering and reaching out for him, clawing at his back and shoulders to bring him closer.

Then his hand is gone and I swear I can hear him suck on his finger, before pulling it out of his mouth with a slight popping sound. I want to see him, and momentarily consider turning on a light, but then I think better of it. I decide I like that it's so dark, as it seems to be making me less inhibited.

His arms wrap around my waist and he pulls me onto his lap, away from the head of the bed, to kiss me. I reach down and take hold of his erection, so I can rub the tip up and down against myself. It feels so good that I can only form one coherent thought: I need more _now_.

The next thing I know, Peeta is gently laying me back on the bed and positioning himself over me so we're lined up just right. I start to guide him inside me and he helps by pushing gently. I wish he'd move faster, but maybe he's afraid of hurting me. It does hurt a little; I guess because it's been so long and this is only our second time. Still, in spite of the slight discomfort, my insides are throbbing and clenching, trying to pull him in.

When he seems about halfway in, Peeta breaks our kiss and rests his head next to mine on the pillow, panting lightly. I realize I've been so focused on what's happening that I'm not even breathing. I take in a slow, shaky breath and try to calm myself down as he pushes in the rest of the way, but I can't. He feels so unbelievably good, and just knowing it's Peeta here with me, and that we're finally doing this again, brings tears to my eyes. I wrap my arms and legs around him, overwhelmed by how much I _feel_ right now, and how much I love him.

He whispers my name and places a trail of soft kisses from my earlobe down over my neck, then his mouth finds mine and he grinds himself against me, making me gasp and arch my back in pleasure.

I let my legs fall to the bed, keeping them spread as far apart as I comfortably can. He starts to move, pulling out just slightly at first, but then more and more as his thrusts continue. I move with him, against him, and it feels better. I knot one hand in his hair and use the other to hold onto his upper back, digging my nails in. For his part, Peeta seems to be trying to kiss every inch of me he can reach: my face, my neck, my chest, my shoulders. I'm only vaguely aware of the noises we're both making - some soft moans and sighs, some not-so-soft grunts and gasps - as the pleasure builds.

I feel him shifting slightly, moving away from me but not enough to prevent him from getting all the way in as he pushes forward again. Then his hands are on my legs, sliding under my bent knees and pushing them up toward my head so my hips are tilted at a new angle. He starts thrusting into me faster and harder. My eyes roll back in my head and my mind seems to shut off. I cry out, pretty loudly, and clutch at the sheet beside me, begging him to keep doing exactly what he's doing right now. With this new angle, he's perfectly stimulating that sensitive place just above where he's inside me and I can feel myself getting ready to come.

I'm pushing back against him frantically, gasping and whimpering, so close I can hardly stand it. Out of nowhere, I feel his mouth close over one of my breasts. He sucks hard and makes me scream as an immense pleasure shoots through me. Stars dance in front of my eyes and I feel like I might faint as my whole body tenses and I clench around him.

I'm just starting to spiral back to normality when Peeta gives a final, hard thrust into me and finishes, crying out almost as loudly as I did. He collapses on top of me, completely spent but still careful not to rest too much weight on me. I wrap all my limbs around him again and stroke my hands over his back while we both try to recover. He's still twitching lightly inside of me, and I'm gently contracting around him, when he rolls onto his back, taking me with him so I'm now on top.

I listen to his heart beating and smile when he kisses my forehead and pulls the sheet over us. In what seems like no time at all, I fall into a deep sleep.

#

We separated at some point in the night; when I wake up at the crack of dawn, I'm laying on my back on my own side of the bed. Peeta's laying on his stomach, his face turned away from me. I place a kiss on his cheek, then silently get dressed before I make my way to the bathroom to wash up. I decide against a shower, planning instead to take one after I get back from my hunt. I make my way downstairs, grab my father's jacket, a bow and some arrows, and a plastic lined bag from the closet to carry my kills in.

It's not until I reach the woods, and feel my cheeks starting to hurt, that I realize I've been smiling ever since I woke up. I purse my lips and then manage to set my face into a normal expression. There will plenty of time for more smiles when I go back home to Peeta. I can't wait to see him again.

In spite of my preoccupation with the perfection and bliss of last night, I manage to get a good enough haul. Partly because I'm eager to see Peeta, and partly because I'm still feeling emotionally (and physically) drained from the ordeal in the Capitol, I head home sooner than I normally would. But my short hunt has helped to clear my head, and I've loved seeing the woods again, so I feel like it's been a plenty useful outing.

I decide to cut through town, which is still in the early rebuilding stages and is deserted this early in the morning. I then walk briskly to the victor's village, coming around the back of my house and entering through the door that leads to the kitchen. There's no evidence Peeta's been in here, nor can I hear him upstairs. He's probably still asleep.

I quickly clean my kills and toss them in the fridge, then wash off the used arrows and put them back in the quiver. I leave them (along with the bow) in the living room, then wash my hands and face at the downstairs bathroom sink.

It occurs to me that the cardboard box and pill bottles, which were in the kitchen yesterday morning, were absent just now. Peeta must have put them away sometime yesterday, maybe after I went up to bed, or while I was washing the dinner dishes (since he cooked, it only seemed fair for me to clean up). I open the medicine cabinet and find them, lined up on the bottom shelf. There are my birth control pills, the sleeping pills, and a third bottle that is meant to aid Peeta's continual recovery from the hijacking. I'm glad there aren't any meds that are supposed to improve _my_ mental health; I guess Dr. Aurelius didn't think I'd need them. I hope he's right.

I put my bow and arrows away in the front closet, and am just hanging up my father's jacket when I hear Peeta coming down the stairs. I meet him in the living room, unable to resist beaming as I take in the sight of him. His dry hair is still a little messy and he's only wearing his sleeping pants, no shirt. His eyes are wide and, for a second, he looks worried. But then, probably due to seeing how happy I am, his face relaxes. He holds his arms out and we quickly eliminate the distance between us and hug tightly.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who has favorited, alerted and read this story. And huge thanks to those who have reviewed; every bit of feedback means a lot to me!

I hope you like this conclusion for _Alight_. Also, fluff warning...but I think they deserve it by now. :)

* * *

"Is everything okay?"

"I should ask you that," Peeta says, brushing his cheek over my hair.

"Why?"

He sighs and runs a hand up and down my back. "When I woke up and you were gone - without me - I thought you were upset."

I forgot that I had said I wanted to take him hunting with me today, I guess because I was so distracted by thoughts of last night. I tell him this, then ask, "Why would I be upset?" and pull back to look up at him.

"Because of what I did -"

"What _we_ did?" I correct him.

Peeta lets go of me, anxiously rubbing his hand over the back of his own neck. "I didn't picture it happening like that. I wanted it…to be special. Not just an impulse when I was trying to make myself feel better after a nightmare."

I smile, reaching up to cup both hands around his jaw. "It _was_ special. It doesn't matter that a nightmare was what lead to it. I mean, we've both wanted it to happen for a while now, right?"

"Yeah," he says quickly, still looking concerned, "of course. But -"

I stand on tiptoe to kiss him, silencing him. After a few seconds, I let my heels return to the ground. Peeta stares down at me with wide, worried eyes. "Everything's okay," I assure him.

He shakes his head, then blurts out, "We didn't use any protection."

"I'd already taken one of the pills from the pink bottle."

Telling him this fact seems to change everything. A look of immense relief comes over his face before his mouth crashes into mine and he clutches me against him tightly. His kiss makes my head spin, and when we break apart for air, Peeta rests his forehead against mine. Now he's smiling. "I put the pills away last night. I didn't know you'd even looked in the box. When did you take it?"

"Yesterday morning, as soon as I came downstairs."

Peeta lifts me up with ease and kisses me again, now clearly allowing himself to be as happy as I've been since I woke up. I can understand why he would be worried - I did mistakenly leave the house without him. Why wouldn't he think I'd done it on purpose because I was upset over possibly having gotten pregnant last night? And I can even understand why he thought last night wasn't exactly perfect, it did start out kind of desperate and rushed.

But now he knows there's nothing to worry about: I'm not pregnant and I am happy about how things happened. He may have initiated it, but I wanted it just as much.

"I'm sorry I forgot I was supposed to take you with me today," I say, after he's set me back down.

Peeta shrugs. "I don't mind that you went without me. I probably would have scared all the game away, anyway."

"But it made you worry." _I_ made him worry.

"I'm fine now," he says, smiling. "As long as you are."

"I am," I say, pulling him in for a kiss. One of his hands rests behind my neck while the other goes to my waist. After a minute or so he gently separates his lips from mine, then holds his hand up between us. I can see that it's dirty with…mud?

"How'd you get mud on your neck?" Peeta asks amusedly.

I roll my eyes, pretending to imply that he's asking a dumb question. "I guess my hand was dirty and I had an itch or something."

"We should get you cleaned up," he says with a suggestive smile.

I'm suddenly so excited I can barely think. It amazes me how something so simple, like the idea of being with Peeta, seems to make the whole world outside of us cease to exist. When I'm thinking about him, and how much I want him, I can forget about the Games and the war, the nightmares and the violence I've seen.

I eagerly embrace the opportunity to let go and feel something good. So I let Peeta lead me up the stairs and take my clothes off. He seems to be struggling to refrain from touching me as he steps over to the shower and sets the temperature. When he turns back toward me, I pull his pants and undershorts down to the floor, then give him a quick, teasing kiss before I step into the shower and stand under the hot rushing water.

Peeta joins me inside the glass walls, sliding the door shut behind him. He stares down at me, placing his hands on my shoulders and then running them down my arms, giving my hands a squeeze before he turns and reaches for a body scrubber. He squeezes some soap onto the scrubber and then, dutifully, tells me to turn around.

I turn away from him and he starts washing me. He washes my neck first, then runs the scrubber down my shoulders, and around my upper back, using his free hand to lightly massage my soapy skin as he washes it. He works his way down to my lower back, then pushes on one of my shoulders and pulls the other, until I've turned to face him again. He adds more soap and washes around my clavicle, then swirls the sponge around each of my breasts before running it down over my ribcage and stomach. He bends down then and washes my lower half, running the scrubber down each of my legs in turn and finally over the tops of my feet.

Peeta stands up and rinses the scrubber out, then hangs it back up. He looks down at me lustfully, then wraps his arms around me and pulls me close, so that my wet skin presses against his. I run my hands up his back and hold him tightly.

When he kisses me, it feels so good I let out a little moaning sound that is muffled by his mouth. Soon after this, he breaks our kiss and brushes his lips against my cheek, then sucks lightly on my neck. He holds me tightly as his mouth grazes across my collar bone, then reaches my breasts. He sucks on one, and brushes the other with his right thumb, keeping his left arm wrapped around me.

I tangle my hands in his wet hair and arch my back with pleasure. I'm about to take his hand and guide it downward, but he beats me to it. He turns me, so my back is against the wall of the shower, and places both his hands on my breasts, which he massages and gently pinches between his fingertips. I gasp when his open mouth meets the pulsing ache between my legs. He licks me there as best he can, but while I'm standing up I just can't get my legs spread as wide as I'd like to. Peeta seems to realize this right when I do, because he stands up and quickly turns off the water.

I'm trembling, desperate to relieve the burning desire he's awakened in me again. I'm only vaguely aware as he leads me out of the shower and runs a towel over me, then squeezes water out of my hair. He dries himself off next, then picks me up and carries me to the bedroom, carefully laying me on the bed.

I pull him down on top of me and we kiss. The way his lips and tongue ravish mine leaves me breathless and tingling all over; I wonder if I'll ever get used to this or if being intimate with him will always feel as overwhelming and intense as it does now.

I push him back gently, ending our kiss. "Peeta," I whisper. I'd meant to beg him to touch me, but apparently his name was all I needed to say, and all I was able to say.

He grins, gives me one more kiss, then moves down on the bed and buries his face between my legs. He laps at me faster than I was expecting; quicker and more forcefully than he did before, and I gasp at the unbelievable sensations rushing through me. My hands grasp and twist the blanket at my sides and I don't seem to have any control over my bucking hips as they desperately seek to deepen this feeling. I'm getting close already.

Panting by now, I lift my head to look down. Peeta's eyes are closed and his blond curls dripping slightly. He looks surprisingly serene for how rapidly he's licking at me.

Something about the sight of him like this: so beautiful, selfless and focused on making me feel good, gives me the little push I needed. My head falls back on the bed and I gasp as the pleasure grows in intensity, swelling through my body, out to the tips of my fingers and toes, completely consuming me. I think I babble out something along the lines of "Oh, _Peeta_ - yes!" but those might just be my thoughts.

I shudder until the feeling fades, leaving me limp and exhausted. Peeta moves up on the bed and kisses me slowly, soothingly. The feel of him, hard and hot against my leg, quickly reawakens my need. I hook a leg over his hip, urging him closer, then end our kiss because I need to see him. His eyes are heavy lidded and starry with arousal, lips wet and puffy from so much kissing.

Reflexively, I say, "I love you."

For a moment he looks taken aback, but then a look of determination washes over him. "I…love you, too," Peeta says, for the first time since the hijacking. It almost sounds like he's just learned the words. He clears his throat softly and tries again. "I love you." That sounded more convincing. With a sweet smile, he repeats, "I love you, Katniss."

Overwhelmed by the sincerity in his voice, I pull him in for another kiss. While our mouths move together, I reach down to touch him and make him even harder. Before I know it, he's slowly pushing his way inside me and I'm writhing with pleasure. This time, unlike the others, we take things slowly. Peeta glides in and out of me at a leisurely pace and, though I wouldn't have thought it possible, the sex is even better than it was last night, and far better than the night before the Quell. Neither of us are sad or worried about what tomorrow will bring. Peeta is not upset over a nightmare, and I'm not worried about him, not trying to comfort him. We're just enjoying each other, expressing our love. Every lingering kiss and gentle touch means so much.

Though the time has flown by, I know we've been at this for a while when Peeta pauses, takes a deep breath, and then begins moving again at a slower pace. I can tell he's ready to let go, but is trying to hold back so I can finish first. He studies my face carefully and I bite my lip, suppressing a smile. He then leans on his left forearm, which is resting on the bed beside me, and reaches his right hand down. His thumb finds that spot above where we're joined and he rubs me there in small, soft circles. In what seems like no time at all, he's brought me to the edge and is pushing me over it. I convulse beneath him, but feel too calm to cry out. This time, I just groan and clutch him tightly.

At the feel of me rippling around him, Peeta begins moving again, only a little faster than he was originally. His climax is less peaceful than mine; he shudders and muffles his cry by burying his face in the pillow next to my head.

He rolls off me and onto his back, panting lightly. Glancing over, I find him staring up at the ceiling, looking more than a little dazed. I turn onto my side, propping my head up on my palm, and use my other hand to stroke Peeta's chest while I gaze down at him.

He turns his head slightly and his eyes focus on mine. "I love you so much," he says, taking hold of my hand. He brings it up to his lips to place a soft kiss on the back of it, then he reaches up to touch my still wet hair. "There were so many times…when I thought we'd never get here," he muses.

"Me too," I say. For a second, I feel upset again, about how I lost him after the Quell. I'd only just realized how much he meant to me, and then he was taken away and changed cruelly - almost ruined. And now, even though he loves me again, I know he'll probably struggle with the after-effects of the hijacking for a long time, maybe even the rest of the his life.

But, I remind myself, compared to some, Peeta and I are incredibly lucky…because we have each other. Of course the bad memories, and feelings guilt on my part, will always be with us, but if the rest of our lives are going to be at all like yesterday and today have been, there will be more things to feel happy about than sad.

I don't know how Peeta can love me as much as he does, but I'll take his love gladly and gratefully. I'll let him make me happy, and do my best to make him happy in return. Maybe I don't deserve to have such a good, easy life, but Peeta certainly does. And he wants to share his life with _me_.

Peeta's index finger pokes gently at the right corner of my mouth, then the left. I realize my thoughts have brought a frown to my face, and he's trying to turn it into a smile. I can't help laughing a little, which makes Peeta grin. Quickly, he leans up on his arm and captures my lips with his, then shifts us so he's laying on top of me. We kiss slowly, languorously, both knowing that we have plenty of time now.

After a while, Peeta pulls back and stares down at me. He's leaning on his forearms and one of his hands strokes my hair, while the other rests lightly at the side of my neck. Out of nowhere, I suddenly remember why I never wanted to love anyone this much, or in this way: the more you have, the more you risk losing. Rationally, I know we're not in danger anymore, but I still can't resist asking, "You'll stay with me, always, right?"

Peeta says playfully, "Just try to get rid of me."

I smile at his joke, then say seriously, "I mean, you'll stay…safe?"

He nods, seeing that I need some real reassurance. "We'll both be safe now," he tells me. "I'm going to stay right here with you, and we'll take care of each other." He give me a brief, soft kiss, then puts his mouth by my ear to whisper, "And I'll make love to you every night…or however often you want it."

I consider the phrase he's used to refer to what we've been doing…I've heard it before but am not sure where. In my head, I've just been thinking of it as sex, but I realize Peeta's right. We're in love, so when we kiss and touch and he's inside me, we are making love. "Every night sounds good," I say, running a hand through his hair.

Peeta pulls back to look at me, smiling at my response. Then his face becomes serious. "We'll be okay now," he says.

I believe him. After some more kissing, we get dressed and go downstairs for breakfast. And so begins our new life.

#

Of course I still have nightmares more nights than not. They usually wake me up, but not always; sometimes I merely remember them the next morning. Peeta comforts me every time I wake up screaming, and I do the same for him during his flashbacks.

There are days when I wake up feeling overwhelmed by the bad memories and sadness, but they happen less and less as the months goes by. And I've realized that feeling miserable will get me nowhere. It won't bring anyone back, nor will it alleviate my guilt. So I try as hard as I can to focus on the good things: Peeta, Prim and my mother's phone calls and occasional visits, hunting…and feeling like I'm free.

There are more good things in my life now than there have ever been before. It's about a year after the war has ended when I realize I want, and can have, one more good thing.

We've just finished making love, with me on top this time, and I've collapsed on top of Peeta. Our sweaty skin sticks together, but it feels good. He runs his hands over my back, kneading and rubbing in a way that relaxes me beyond belief.

He takes a breath and I can tell he wants to say something, but is hesitating. I lift my head, resting my arms on his chest, and look into Peeta's eyes. He smiles. "Do you ever think about…"

"What?"

He kind of shrugs, biting his lip. "You, me…some bread…and a fire?"

Actually, I have thought of it, but only fleetingly. For a long time it's seemed like we're headed that way, but I guess I thought if it ever happened, it would be years in the future. I figured we'd both want to get married _someday_, maybe when we're in our twenties.

But now that he's asking, I can't think of a single reason to say no. There's only one thing regarding the future that we've ever disagreed about, and that's having children. We talked about it once a couple months ago. Peeta said he's nowhere near ready, but wants them someday if I decide I want them. I've told him I never will, but he didn't seem to mind. He either didn't believe me (didn't think I really know at this point what I'll want years from now) or is perhaps willing to change _his_ mind; I don't know. But I do know that no matter which one of us gets their way (meaning me), it won't affect how much we love each other and need to be together.

"When?" I ask.

I don't know if I've ever seen Peeta look as happy as he does right now. "Is that a yes?"

I smirk. "What do you think?"

He gives me a long kiss, then sits us up so I'm now perched in his lap. His hands move to my waist, squeezing it, and his eyes lock onto mine as he says, "Tomorrow?"

I place my hands on his arms, smiling at him. "Tomorrow."

The next day, we have a very brief ceremony at the new Justice Building, then sign the papers. And in the evening, after dinner, Peeta presents me with a small loaf of bread that he baked specially. We light a fire and watch it grow, then toast and eat our bread. It seems so simple, but the meaning behind the ritual makes it special, unforgettable.

Almost as soon as we've swallowed the last bites, Peeta's pulling me in for a kiss. We exhaust each other on the blanket I've laid out on the floor, and wind up falling asleep there, warmed by the crackling fire and each other.


End file.
